In the few moments I've got before I have to get to work, I just wanted to say that the Mousemobile was covered in four or five inches of now this morning. My feet froze as I had to stand in the deep snow on the side of the street to dig it out. My socks are dry now, but it took them a while to get that way. The wind was blowing not fiercely, but strongly, stirring up snow and reducing visibility. The roads had not been plowed as the snow is expected to fall all day; the road crews will wait for it to finally stop before they have at it. You crept along at a good ten miles below the speed limit, caustiously following the narrow tire tracks left by the car in front of you and the car in front of her.

All in all, it was a wet, treacherous, miserable winter morning. I adored it.

In Search of the Perfect Lesbian
Margaret Eastman, Pete Foster, Mary Peppard, Scipio Winter, and Stacey Hiraki were all on their respective swim teams in high school. Parker Peppard would have been, but he graduated when he was 15 and didn't really have much time for extracurricular activities. If you didn't swim, you have my pity, because you really missed out.