Welcome to the South, hon!
Installment 1

Believe it or not, the best milk around here is also the cheapest milk, and it is sold at a gas station --Weigel's. Paul pumps the gas and I run in and grab a couple gallons of Skim Delight, for only $3.59 a gallon. This is a great deal, especially if you add in the entertainment value provided by the cashiers. Every time I buy milk, I get the cashier's life story in 30 seconds or less. Seriously, EVERY time. It has become a running joke between Paul and I -- I come out of Weigel's as he finishes pumping the gas, and I tell him the latest life story. I call it The Weigel's Milk Cashier Saga.

Cashier 1: By the time I walked out with my milk, I knew her name, her daughter's middle name, her birth month, the fact that her mother passed away 6 months ago from cancer, her boyfriend was out of town, and her medical history. Oh, and she really likes Darvocet (a prescription narcotic).

Cashier 2: I forgot -- but it was a lot!

Cashier 3: Before I even got my receipt, we were friendly enough that apparently I deserved extra punches on my milk card -- she turns 40 next month, her boyfriend is 29, she is LOVING life, and her daughter disapproves.

I am NOT making this up!! Welcome to the South, hon!

Out of the mouths of babes

Two hours after our first attempt to get Samantha down to bed, she was still wide awake and having a complete meltdown: red-faced screaming filled with pleas like "I need my mommy!"

I went to lay down with her, and she looked at me and asked, "Read scriptures?" I almost fell off the bed. But I quickly said yes and grabbed the Book of Mormon, and started to read a few verses. I asked her if she was feeling better, because she immediately calmed down. She said, "Yah, I feel much better!" After 3 or 4 verses she got bored and asked for the pictures. I handed her the book and she started turning pages. She found them and started explaining that Jesus was in white clothes (the 3rd Nephi account of Christ's appearance in the Americas) and also said "Can't Hurt!" to the painting of Samuel the Lamanite on the wall with arrows coming at him. Wow, she really listens!!

Then I found the painting of Christ at the beginning of the book, and asked her who it was. She said, "It's Jesus! Jesus looking for mommy."

Now, what do you think that is supposed to mean?

Spring?

It was 60 degrees today -- I went outside in shorts and t-shirts. I think I could actually see the snow melting, and some green is popping through in some places. Frankly, I'm surprised the grass made it through the winter, but then again, everything is hearty in the Northeast.

Apparently all sorts of things are melting around here. My neighbor spoke to me today, for the second time ever, once it became apparent that I was moving. The first time was in response to a fire truck and ambulance outside my door (long story). I guess I know how to help cold New Englanders melt: move!

NH's version of March Madness

Today's snowstorm (Yes, TODAY, March 28) moved us into second place. The competition is getting so close -- I don't know if I can handle the suspense. What competition you ask? Why, for the Snowiest Winter Ever Recorded. Seriously.

I am so sick of snow I can't stand the fact that our move to Tennessee is still 28 days away. Will we see any signs of Spring before we go? Better yet, will the snow even have melted before we go? I am actually hoping that it snows a measly 6 more inches so that at least I can complain about THE snowiest winter, and not the Second snowiest winter. Complaining about something that can truly be categorized as the worst (or best, if you are a lover of snow sports, which clearly I am not) of any particular category just sounds better.

I almost threw out my snowboots and down-filled coat recently, considering the fact that I was moving to a place where we will see only 10 inches of snow a year. Compare that to New Hampshire: We've seen over 10 FEET since Dec. 1st. Good thing I didn't throw out my boots. Or my coat. Samantha wants to go play in it, and I guess I'll let her, as she'll likely never see this much snow again in her life. Unless she goes on a mission to Norway.

Surprise Friend

I stayed out late after YW tonight talking with a new, but amazing friend. The timing is ironic, to say the least. Surprising, even. But the most surprising thing of all is that we are more similar than we are different.

Let me describe her so you can better understand my last statement. This friend is:

Gorgeous (me, not so much)
Thin (clearly, not me)
Really connects with the YW (have I really been out of high school that long?)
Creative (hmm..do my sad attempts at jewelry-making count?)
A fabulous mom to THREE kids (I limp along with ONE)

So, of course, when I met her I stood in awe of her, the way a high school geek is in awe of the valedictorian cheerleader.

She is also warm, kind, empathetic, and genuinely loves people. Above all that, she is a truly great person. Not just a good person who tries to do good things, but a truly Great person who struggles through the mud of life while doing Great things. And, like most Great people, she doesn't even know it.

So, even though she is so many things I am not, I am so grateful to have found her, ironic timing and all.

Formula for whiplash sans a car

1 Snowy, wet, slippery day
+ 1 overexcited lighthouse tourist
multiplied by 1 pair of worn plastic Crocs
raised to the power of a large concrete slab
Equals a slip, fall, and bonk on the head.

I woke up this morning with a nasty case of whiplash, as well as swollen arms, legs, and rear end. I wish I could just watch reruns of Law and Order all day. Unfortunately, I don't have a TV, and I DO have a 3-year-old.

Apparently Samantha saw me fall, and exclaimed, "Oh, no! Mommy, you okay?" When I got back in the car, considerably colder and very wet, Samantha started crying and saying that she fell down, too. What an empath :)