I don't know if I oughta go sailin' down no hill with nothin' between the ground and my brains but a piece of government plastic.

To let you know just how rare snow is here in the Flowerplex, it took me about eleventy-billion hours to find a title to this post.

We had a snow day today. While others were busy building…uh…snow-women, I went sledding with my YL friendlies. Down (or off) a local dam.

What did the fish say when he hit a wall? Dam. (joke courtesy of Wendy).

We  have another snow day tomorrow, but I can guarantee that I am not going sledding.

Let’s discuss the sledding, shall we?

I have never been skiing. On the rare occasions that we have snow, I put on my wellies (or galoshes) and take pictures and catch snowflakes on my tongue, and then immediately go inside and take a hot bath. I do not spend three and a half hours in the winter wonderland.

I was very excited about going sledding. It sounded all wintery and fun! Very New England-y. I put on my long john shirt with a fleece over it, threw on my jeans, a fleece-lined jacket, some gloves, a scarf, a baseball hat, and my galoshes.

For those of you from Texas and Florida, that sounds like a lot of clothes. I was quite toasty in the apartment and in the car. Those of you that are not from Texas, or have ever been skiing, are laughing right now because you know just how little that amount of clothing is.

I knew pretty much the minute we were walking away from the car that I’d made a mistake, at least with the gloves. I’d find out a few short snow-filled minutes later that the galoshes were a ginormous mistake as well. (I should have known when I saw this sign.)

We finally got to the top of the hill and the sledding commenced. I let the high schoolers have a go at it, because I’m generous like that. And I was a little trepidacious trepidatious scared to go down first. That just meant I had to wait until the kids sledded down to the bottom and came back up with a tube.

One of the kids handed me a lovely tire-printed tube and said, “here…use this one. It goes real fast.”

And so I did.

Ya’ll. First, I want you to notice how inflated my tube is as I'm barrelling down the hill.

I hit that ground and went flying. Right about the time I got past LG (the guy by the sign) and he took my picture with his fancy camera (can't wait to see that one), my tube got spun around.

I continued to go faster and faster. I even caught air at one point.
Did ya'll notice the little road at the bottom of the hill? My inner tube did not notice the little road at the bottom of the hill, and went flying over it into the snowbank/ditch on the other side.

I finally got my happy self up and picked up my inner tube. This is what it looked like. Apparently as I was sleddling joyfully down the hill, the tube was losing air. Rapidly. And when I got to the bottom, it was plumb out.

By the time I got back up the hill, I was covered in mud, my everything was wet and muddy, and the feeling in my fingertips and toes was all but gone.

In the end, we had more fun than you can shake a stick at and I got to say I went sledding on the snow day. I came home and took a bath. Not a moment too soon, as the water was still draining from the tub when LG was knocking at my door to return my camera. I left it with the boys, who were staying to have a little manly shenanigans involving sledding down the hill without shirts or some such nonsense. (I've seen the video. Hilarious.)

Tomorrow's challenge: tackling the laundry and the bathroom grime. At least I'll be dressed warmly.