I'm watching the snow pile up. It's coming down in a fickle sort of way, one moment fluffy and soft, the next little icy pellets. We're supposed to have a foot by 9AM. Time to bake cookies.
We had our Aunt Linda over last night--Pasta Carbonara, crunchy toast, and a big salad. I've decided that Carbonara is one of my favorite things. Right up there with red wine, chippies, and wet kisses from my kiddos. We have a tendency to leave the mess for the next morning. And, although a little tedious, there's a definite sense of accomplishment doing the mountain of dishes. Its a sign of a good night.
I'm going to put the pot on to boil, figure out what type of mischief the babes are concocting in their room, and watch the white flakes fall.
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