Is it too much to ask?

As I type this, my wacky husband is doing a lame imitation of Bing Crosby in White Christmas. He just yelled over something about it being played on consecutive nights on TBS , and apparently we are on the second night because he actually remembers some of the words to the songs.

Right now, he's marching in his slippers around the kitchen to the song when General Waverly walks in to the surprise show in his honor--"I'll follow the old man wherever he wants to go..." he sings along. I guess I take back all the bad stuff I say about him after all--he's cracking me up.

The weather has taken a turn for the very cold and frozen, much to my dismay. While I don't mind the snow, this blustery crap's gotta end. I guess it's gonna be a balmy 5 degrees or something this week. Eeek!

The Nutcracker on Saturday was lovely. We had some decent seats on the mezzanine until I realized that there were some fancy box seats in front of us not being used. At intermission, I slowly slinked over and nabbed me some primo seats, while the rest of the family chickened out. I sat there, serenely looking like I belonged and settled in for the second half. Finally, Em couldn't stand it any longer and slinked over to join me. Apparently some other folks took my cue, and soon, all the luxury box seats were filled with Lin-wanna-bees.

Well, except for G'ma Phyl and Joe--they were still too chicken to budge. Too bad for them, those seats were comfy.

I sat there smiling like a darn fool, listening to the orchestra and watching pouf-laden snowflakes dance around the stage during the Snow Scene. Gees, that is lovely. And then there is a choir that la-la-la's in the background and it gives me goosebumps.

But then it's got me thinking--how come snow rarely comes to us in a fancy dance with lovely twirls and swirls? How come there are no pirouettes and silent jumps for those darn flakes that make my commute so difficult? Where are the poufs? Where are the toe shoes and crystal headpieces? Where are the girls tossing handfuls of light fluffy snow that makes the world look so pretty and musical? Sigh.

If I'm gonna have snow, that's the way I want it delivered. And I want that darn choir to softly sing the la-la-la's too. I don't think that is too much to ask, do you?

And while I'm all giddy about lovely dancing snowflakes, it reminds me of this:



Oh, if you don't get it--it's a Chicago thing. We grew up on this stuff every December. We would wait, as kids, for this to be shown on Ray Rayner (Channel 9) every single morning until Christmas came. Sigh. Good times.

And this is why I have high expectations of my snowflakes.