Last night it snommed 5 inches, thus I got another snom day! (I like to call snow, "snom" because one time we had little African children from the African Children's Choir stay at our house and it snowed when they were there and they had never seen it before and they wrote us a thank you note that said: "We had fun playing in the snom.")
I was watching Kelly and Regis this morning and Papa came in and asked me:
Papa: Are you having a relaxing day?
Julie: Yes, are you?
Papa: Yes. I have a lot of relaxing days.
We didn't have oatmeal for breakfast this morning. Instead we had hard-boiled eggs. I didn't want one because I don't really like eggs (it's a texture thing...), but Papa made me try one. He always makes me try things, even if I've had them before. It wasn't good, but I forced myself to eat it in the same way Papa forces himself to eat oatmeal. At breakfast, Papa said he was going to go shovel the walk. Grammy told him he isn't and she is going to go shovel. I told them that neither of them are shoveling, and I'll do it because I'm the strongest. Then, Papa told me he is the strongest and started flexing his muscles. Then I told him that I can do 30 push-ups and I go to rehab every day, then he told me that maybe I should go now so he can have a little free time.
Anyway, Grammy kept telling us that she is going to shovel, and we kept telling her no, because:
1) She already hurt her shoulder this year from picking apples to make applebutter at church
It ended up Papa and me out there shoveling a path for the mailman (Papa really likes his mail). We shoveled a path all the way down the driveway and then shoveled some space so we could get cars out of the garage. Papa decided that he wanted to get his car out of the garage immediately, so he pulls it out and backs down the driveway with ease. Then, he tried to get it back up the drive way and he just spun his tires and slid right back down into the street. He tried this several times, each time whipping around the driveway even faster and pressing the pedal harder so his tires spun even more. It was really scary. I could see bad things happening, but Papa just kept on spinning. Finally, he got the car inside the garage and told me I could go inside and he's just going to tidy up the driveway a little bit. So I went inside, and when I looked out the window, there he was, sliding around the driveway again in his huge rear-wheel drive Lincoln. I told Grammy what he was doing and she said: "I hate that car. We never should have bought it. It has rear-wheel drive and can't drive in the snow. As soon as one of us dies, we're getting rid of it!" According to Papa, that will be at least 8 years.
For dinner, we had pheasant. One of Papa's friends shot a pheasant and gave it to us. Grammy and him told me it was a $100 pheasant because that is how much it cost his friend to go hunting. Grammy found a recipe so we made it into a casserole. We also added some chicken to it so that we would have a little more meat (pheasants are small...). Anyway, we cooked it and served it and Papa couldn't tell what was pheasant and what was chicken, so he would take out each piece of meat and show it to Grammy and me so we could tell him what he is eating. During dinner he asked me:
Papa: Did you eat your hard-boiled egg this morning?
Papa: Did you like it?
Julie: No. I don't like eggs. I just ate it anyway though, kind of like how you eat oatmeal even though you don't like it.
Papa: I know how that goes. Oatmeal makes me sickly. Whenever I eat it, I feel nauseated.
Grammy: That is all in your head!
Papa: No, I feel ill to my stomach. Really nauseated.
Grammy: No you don't, it is in your head. Stop thinking about that and you won't feel sick.
Papa: This casserole makes me feel the same way. Nauseous. I like some of the things in it, like the rice, water chestnuts and mushrooms, but I don't know about this meat.
Julie: Yeah, I don't know about it either.
Grammy: It all tastes like chicken to me. I don't know why pheasant is so expensive at restaurants!
Papa: Are we going to have another course this meal? Like dessert?
Julie: Well, are you sure you're not too nauseous?
Papa: I'll have some carrot cake to even things out in there.
Yeah, it turns out we're not really fans of pheasant. But we are fans of carrot cake.