Merry Xmas Ya Filthy Animals

Hearing fuck repeatedly fly from the mouth of my 3-year-old as she struggled to put the Frozen II Monopoly lid box on made me question my parenting choices.

I’m the verbal assaulter in the family. I sling effs, and sh**s around with the frequency of a prison inmate knowing one of their biscuits is missing.

I have no shame about it, usually. Yet hearing my innocent, curly-haired princess hit the swear meter like Aunt Barbara jamming the button on the Wheel Of Fortune slot machine walloped me good in the do better circuitry.

To be clear, I don’t believe in swearing abstinence. I will be storing the colorful language in the closet for semi-easy access. 

Skating across the driveway after being let out, the ducks huddled in the lawn and used their bills to pull off the ice that glued their tail feathers together. With hundreds of flights canceled at SeaTac, it’s too cold out today, and until further notice, it’s best to keep the car in the garage. 

The videos coming out of Seattle – of cars ploying into each other like they’re participating in a demolition derby – is a head shaker. Who in their right mind?! If the goal of holiday joy is having a higher insurance policy and replacing bumpers and hoods, then I say go for it!

It appears the storm is heading onward, leaving the alerts and warnings all for not. I love the thrill of the gusts and trees swaying like inflatable tube men. I also love the consistency of a 66-degree thermostat, the ease of pulling a shot for my morning coffee, and body-burning hot water even more. Oh, how I love hot water.

I know I’m dependent on electricity. Uncomfortably dependent. I think about buying a generator, and then I remember the neighbor within walking distance, of his huge shop and house with wood-burning stoves, tools, and all things needed to stay alive. He even has chickens that produce a shit-ton, I mean a poop-ton of eggs.

Stay warm, be kind, and watch your mouths, you filthy animals.

Love, Jaclynn

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