Greetings from the Arctic Tundra


They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Well, that’s good to hear, because I’m much too tired to write now that all the excitement of good ol’ St. Valentine’s Day has worn me down to a nub.

Yes, the air at Maison de Scratches was thick with romance. Highlights included me forgetting yet again that I am supposed to purchase Valentine’s Day cards that my wife and I can pretend are directed to her from our toddler son and infant daughter. Unfortunately, my Cro-Magnon-like brain continues defaulting to the concept that Valentine’s Day is all about wooing your sweetheart—which is fine, unless your sweetheart is expecting to receive cards from her toddler son and infant daughter. It does not improve matters if your sweetheart remembers having the same conversation with you last year.

Hey, nothing that a little wine, candlelight and the smooth sounds of Barry White can’t fix, right? Unfortunately, we had none of the above, and instead were serenaded with a lengthy cacophony of shrill screaming courtesy of the aforementioned infant daughter, who usually would have been slumbering oh-so peacefully, but whose sinuses are glued shut thanks to yet another winter cold, and whose first teeth are taking their damn sweet time breaking through her insanely sensitive gums.

We eventually got her settled down … but not before one normally level-headed woman had smashed to death the expensive (albeit shitty and unreliable) universal remote control that works the TV, TiVo, DVD player and stereo receiver—in other words, the most important item in the house. To be fair, the remote sealed its own fate by choosing to showcase its shittiness and unreliability at the same moment that the person holding it was beginning to bleed from the ears due to the sustained, knife-like screams of the baby in her arms.

So, rather than write about all of the steamy, sultry and sensuous goings-on here at the Love Shack, I figured I’d give you a post-blizzard glimpse of my backyard, evidence that The Perfect Storm did, in fact, lay the smackdown on us.

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