The Scene In Which I Am A Twit.

This morning, as I was cleaning out various email inboxes and working on my project of getting them all organized into one space, I came across a realization that made me giggle.

Frequently, I tag emails or stories for future blog posts, and today I finally got around to creating a folder in my inbox for them. Not wanting to write out "that wasn't in the script," I, naturally, abbreviated it.

And realized that spelled TWITS.

And had to share that with you.

Happy Monday!

The Scene In Which I Start Another Blog.

I know.

Trust me, I can't believe it myself.

But, (and Cute Boy laughs every time I say this because he knows it means I've been putting a lot of thought into whatever I'm about to pronounce): HERE'S THE THING: I had to do it.

I had to do it because the other blog I've started is, in fact, a craft blog. And while I know that my audience here might enjoy the occasional craft story (especially when they go awry- like the time when I was 11 and my friend Lisa and I decided to have an "ocean-themed art show" in my basement and decided mood lighting in the form of putting a blue plastic bag over the lightbulb was a good idea....) I can't imagine starting a blog post here with "Today I was creating these supercute felt flower/button pins!"

I had to do it because once I had the idea to do it, I was off and running with more ideas for more posts and, had I put them all on here, this would have turned into a craft blog anyway.

And finally, I had to do it because - if we're being honest - if I'm going to go ahead and share cake recipes, flower-making tips, and knitting know-how, I think it's best if those things are separated from posts about trying to learn to ski, or vacations in Toronto with Cute Boy.

Thus, a Blog Was Born, and it can be found at www.beckygetscrafty.blogspot.com should you be inclined to pull out your yarn anytime soon.

But trust me, should hilarity, embarassment or utter failure occur during the creation of any crafting - you'll be the first to know, right here.

The Scene In Which It's Just A Snowy Saturday

There's probably a more clever way to start a post about snow than "It snowed in Indy last night," but despite waiting for one to come to me, it hasn't happened. Yet.

So.

It snowed in Indy last night.

As far as Midwestern snow storms go, it wasn't a bad one. We got about 9,000 feet or approximately 8 inches, depending on who you hear it from. A couple cars probably slid off the road somewhere (but those were undoubtedly manned by out-of-state drivers, 'cause Hoosiers are accustomed to driving in snow given that it happens every year here).

I am fortunate enough to live on a street used as a main thoroughfare for people who live in Carmel, Fishers, Geist, and other NE Indy neighborhoods to get home from downtown, so -dictated largely by the fact that if any of those cute commuters had to find an alternate way home through big, bad downtown Indy they'd freak - my street is often one of the first plowed in the city. True, the plows coming through often mean that I then have to scrape four layers of gunk off my car, but hey, it's also the one time each year that the drivers on Delaware actually observe and, even (gasp!) OBEY the 35mph speed limit, so my odds of "death by driveby" as I try to scrape out my car are lessened. WIN!

So driving, and street plowing, are not my major beefs with this particular snowstorm, you see.

Shoveling, however, is.

There's a perfect storm of things happening here, you see.

First and foremost, I pre-emptively shoveled a path last night. Frickin' guaranteeing that I'd be laughed at by Mother Nature.

Secondly, I really, really, REALLY wanted to get snowed in today. I wanted to be stuck at home with my pjs, my dog, my seven channels of HBO, the awesome purple yarn I am making someone (myself, maybe) a funky criss-cross scarf out of and the awesome multicolored yard from Mom that I am making someone (someone else, but I don't know who yet) a skinny pompom scarf out of, and have everything else in my life be cancelled.

Third, both Younger Brother and Cute Boy are out of town this weekend, leaving me to handle the transferring of 8 inches of slush-and-snow off the walkways by myself (not that it would be different if they were here, because Cute Boy has his own house to worry about and Younger Brother tends to be oblivious to these kinds of homeownership chores, but dang it, you KNEW we'd get more snow when I was alone to handle it!)

So you see, it wasn't a massive surprise to wake up this morning and find that of the 7 inches dumped on and around my house, about an inch had felt compelled to stick to the pathetic brown blades of grass sticking up out of my lawn, and the rest had drifted sideways to coat my steps and walkway in anywhere from 4- 24 inches of snow.

Super.

There's really not much more to the story other than I'd like some credit for hauling my butt out there and shoveling a decent path through the mess, especially knowing that Cute Boy is out of town and unable to give me a backrub for the next few days because HOLY HECK, shoveling snow makes me feel like I'm 85 years old.

Seeing Finnigan play in the snow makes it better though, because seriously, that dog is adorable. You would think that a blind dog would hate the snow for covering up all his scent markers, but HE. LOVES. IT. He loves it SO. MUCH. I wish I had a video to show you all how he runs back and forth and play-bows to the snow like it's going to move and play with him. Adorable.

In other news, I dreamt about baking last night, which I think is a sign I'll have to stop later and pick up some cupcake mix and icing - that is, if the frantic "Run On The Grocery Stores" last night hasn't thoroughly depleted the supply in Indianapolis....because you just know that everyone and their mother ran out to stock up their cabinets last night on the extremely unlikely odds that Indianapolis (say it with me: a city that gets snow EVERY year) would be blanketed in such an inexplicable amount that it would render us incapable of functioning.

(I almost went into a "years later, the discoverers would find the lost city of Indianapolis under the tundra" Pompeii-esque narrative here, but decided not to as that was really the only funny line I could come up with besides "sadly, the lack of hand-held can openers would spell the demise of the residents and their supply of canned goods after the power went out.")

I think I need to call an end to this post while I still can- after all, I've got to head back out in this snow soon! Hope you are having a wonderful Saturday.