Ha HA! Up Yours, Blizzard!

We drove home from the Twin Cities last night. It sucked in a majorly royal way. Driving on Hwy 29 is never all that pleasant, seeing as there's NOTHING on it and the stretch between Wausau and Green Bay is so long and desolate it's kinda creepy. There's a bunch of run-down buildings and dilapidated farms, but that's really about it. Each time I drive along it, I kind of expect to see a creepy little kid running through a cornfield shouting "Malachi! MALACHIIII!"* Last night was exceptionally unenjoyable.

* You know, from Children of the Corn? Please tell you me you knew that. It's only one of the best cheesy Stephan King movies ever. Did you know the redhaired kid in it is the guy who played Patrick Dempsey's dorky friend in Can't Buy Me Love? I tell ya, I'm full of useless knowledge.

It was the type of blizzard where you can't see two feet in front of the car, you feel like you're about to get blown off the road like the 4083 other cars you've seen in the ditch so far, you try and get in the left lane but then realize you can't tell where the left lane is, you're tense and sweating, you're wondering if people will even miss you when you're gone, etc etc. Of course, I wasn't driving, but, hello, it's EXTREMELY tense being the one in the passenger seat. Let's think about me, here. I was pumping that imaginary brake on the floor like a rockstar. I wouldn't have been surprised if I popped the door handle right off with how tight I was clutching it. I'm sure Eric appreciated the fact that I showed admirable restraint from shrieking "Oh MY GOD WATCH OUT FOR THAT TRUCK! WE'RE GOING IN THE DITCH! I NEED A DRINK! WHY WILL MY DAUGHTER NOT STOP SCREAMING???" I was quite the hero.

Tate was a champ, sitting in the way back watching his DVDs. I don't think he even realized we were in The Blizzard of the Century. Every once in awhile he'd ask for a snack because he thought it was fun when I chucked little baggies of fruit snacks back at him, but besides that he was awesome. Nora, on the other hand, was pissed that Mother Nature was being a total bitch and keeping her from her nice warm, soft crib and cried for an hour and a half, which in blizzard time equals roughly 39 hours.

After a particularly harrowing trip across a GIGANTIC bridge that freaks me out when it's calm and sunny out, we made it home. That bridge, man...that was rough. I just put my head down in my lap and told God that since he totally rocks, how about He lets us get across without, oh, plummeting into a river, how about?

Then of course we get home, chuck the kids into bed and find we have nothing alcoholic to toast our being alive with. Eric made some sort of shot-type thing with Malibu and Blue Curacao but I didn't feel like adding gut rot to my still-racing heart and off-the-chart blood pressure, so I passed. The myriad of people on Facebook telling me what idiots we were for driving home in this weather definitely warmed my heart, though. Nothin' like friends to tell you how idiotic you really are, in case it had slipped your mind momentarily.

Whew. Sonnenbergs-1, Snow-0. Suck it, zero-visiblity. We kicked your ASS.