Saturday afternoon I noticed my neighbor Krys stomping home from my other neighbor's house. Come to find out that her rambunctious boys had pulled down their Christmas tree and broke several heirloomish ornaments. Although fairly new to the 'hood, Krys has deeply impressed me with her patience when in comes to her 4 small children. She is always the calm voice over the wild blur of mad kid-tivity that is their front yard, where even the neighborhood dogs dare not go.
But apparently she does have her limits.
I was out shoveling the driveway that afternoon - a fairly ambitious job after Friday's big storm - when I noticed Nick, the 7-year-old tree toppler, doing the same.
Jane: 'Nick, how's it going?'
Nick: 'Not so good. I have to shovel.'
Jane: 'Really? All by yourself?'
Nick: 'My mom's mad. She said not to come in until she can see some concrete.'
Jane: 'Yikes! You better get to work.'
Nick: 'How much do you have to do?'
Jane: 'Probably the whole drive.'
Nick: ' You must really be in trouble. What did you do?'
Jane: 'Married wrong.'
Note to husbands in cold climes: If you let your wife blow off steam by shoveling snow, be warned that at the same time she is accumulating some sweet upper-body strength that may soon enable her to throw your a$$ over the back fence.
Merry Christmas Everybody! Santa has promised to put a better outlook in my stocking this year. I better go check it.