Today is a bake-in-your-jammies kind of day, as we're homebound by the Storm! Of The Century! We might get a whole inch of rain! Winds may approach hurricane force (if you happen to be standing on a mountaintop). We're not homebound in the way people with real weather are homebound, but when we look outside and see the wind and hard rain, we say, "If we don't have to go driving in this, we won't." It's the kind of weather that invites accidents here in California where drivers don't have the sense of a goat. (When did I turn into my grandmother? Shoot me if I start saying "Boy, that sun sure is warm!")
We have our electricity and the drainage culvert behind us is a good 8 feet away from flooding. Good things.
I'm feeling much more child-friendly today, as my good friend Britney kindly sucked all the crazy-mommy out of me and used it herself. Good thing, too, since we're all stuck together inside all day. I mean me and the kids, not Britney. Someone else is taking care of her, hopefully.
God is currently on notice, however, that I am DONE with tragic deaths. Done. No more. I've heard too many stories this winter and the latest was getting news that one of my favorite psychiatrists ever to work with got hit by a car. Middle of the morning, an intersection I drove through many times a day when I lived there, crosssing in the crosswalk with the signal. And that's it - she's dead. Enough already.