I just got a call from my boss.  My office is closed tomorrow.  I'm seriously amazed by this, but it makes sense.

See, it turns out I was overoptimistic when thinking I was going to be able to get my car out this evening; if I were in labor or Liam went into an insulin coma, the thing could be gotten out of the alley, but short of life-threatening emergency it's just not moving.  And despite the extra shoveling we did this afternoon, I was unsure how I was going to get in to work in the morning, considering I'm not at all certain the buses are all running.  So having the office be closed makes my life vastly easier--it's just that it's never happened before, in all the time I've been working for the county.

Then again, two feet of snow doesn't happen all that often, even in places where it snows more often than it does in Pittsburgh...

So, you know, I've lived in this area my whole life.  I'm used to the weather folks talking about the horrid weather that's on its way, and ending up with barely enough snow to cover the grass.

This time?  Not so much.  We spent hours this afternoon shoveling the alley, because the city doesn't plow it--I can't blame them, seeing as it's pretty narrow and we park along it, but it does make it inconvenient when there's no-shit two feet of snow out there.  At least the top 14 inches or so was nice and fluffy, but there was this layer at the bottom that needed to be broken up with a coal shovel or entrenching tool before the snow shovel could move it.  We got one end of the alley done, with the help of some of the kids from down the block; if someone needs to get out, they can.

All that said, man it was gorgeous.  Last night it was bright enough to see colors, just from street lights reflecting around.  It was fabulous to look at.  Kitty girl decided that she needed to be Outside Cat, and we let her because we knew she couldn't get very far; even then the snow was up to her shoulder anywhere it hadn't been shoveled.  So she sniffed around a bit, and then realized how cold she was getting and came back in, making sure to sniff everything on the way back in to make it clear that this was her idea.

I have just ordered a needle felting kit that makes a cute little rabbit, on the hope (most likely vain) that the fiber-crafts mojo will overcome my complete lack of ability with the plastic arts so that I'll be able to produce something 3D that looks good.

I've always wanted to be able to sculpt, and I am completely hopeless at it.  Wish me luck...

I've never been a fan of morning shows on the radio--the stupid jokes, the raucous laughter, the lack of music.

On the other hand, when all you can hear is the raucous laughter, it's kind of worse.  The lady in the next cube has a radio, and she keeps it down, but this means that I can't hear the actual words; all I get is melody and the morning show folks (in Chicago, no less) laughing at their own so-called jokes.

I'm crocheting.  And following the patterns and everything.  In just like the last two weeks.  How did this happen?

The writer of one of the blogs I read is just back from a trip to Tokyo, where the Quilt Festival has just concluded.  And she has some truly spectacular things up in her Flickr pool.  I think my favorite may be this one--it's a big picture, be warned--because of the amazing irregular border.

There's something in my head about these quilts, and the Victorians, and women not working outside the home, but I'm not sure where I'm going with it.

This is a Sponsored Post written by me on behalf of Hiltons of Branson. All opinions are 100% mine.

Despite my sojourn in California, my time in the Midwest was limited to driving through it--the more southern bits on the way there, and route 80 on Greyhound on the way home.  Thus, I fear I couldn't tell you whether Missouri is a nice state; I didn't even get off the bus there.  I am perhaps not the greatest of authorities on the glories of any part of Missouri, including Branson, but that's what I'm going to talk about today anyway.

 The Hilton at the convention center in Branson is setting up a special event for the weekend of the 26th of February.  They're calling it an Italian Culinary Weekend, with a reception on Friday evening, a cooking demonstration Saturday afternoon, and a five-course meal for dinner on Saturday. 

Mind you, if you're in the city anyway you might want to check out some of the other attractions on Sunday (or, you know, make a nice long weekend of it and take Monday as well).  The package, which is just for Friday and Saturday nights, is only $430 for two people; for that amount you can probably swing another couple of nights without a big problem.  And Branson seems to have plenty in the way of other attractions: golf, shopping, theater, even a theme park.  Sounds like a good time to me.  The end of February strikes me as a fine time for a little getaway, too...

Someone found a set of a Japanese weaver's notebooks; you can see some of the pages here.  What strikes me about them is how much it looks like the kind of thing I do when I'm trying to come up with a blackwork motif or something along those lines.  In fact, it looks a lot like anybody's design notebook, complete with little arrows pointing from little notes.  Interesting how that sort of thing stays the same.

I am very amused by this blog, which has old paintings, renamed.  There are about a hundred of them; the link is to the first.  Be warned that there is some profanity, and also some boobs--painters of the era being spoofed loved painting things like nymphs, for an excuse to include boobs...

If you have mice and would like to not have mice, but don't really feel like killing them, here's a simple solution.  The basic idea is to balance a toilet paper tube with a treat at one end over a trash can or tall-sided bucket; the mouse goes into the tube, falls into the bucket, and can't jump out.  It can then be released as you like.

There's no danger whatsoever of hurting the mouse when it falls; mice are very light and quite furry, and the combination means that even their terminal velocity is not going to kill them.  You could pitch a mouse off the Empire State Building and it would walk away unconcerned after it touched down.  And it'll still get to eat its treat, even.