So the weekend happened and the exhausting task of searching for dead bodies in the melting snow has me a little freaked.  What?  You think I’m kidding?  Pfft….I wish.  Seriously, the snow has melted in exponential amounts and everyone is afraid to go into their backyards right now in fear of what they’ll find.  I know some runners who refuse to run the path around the ‘hood in case something pops up that they would rather not witness.  I should back-story this a bit.  See, in January or February of this year a young man was last seen exiting a cab in our neighbourhood never to be seen again.  Many people believe he headed for the wooded area that a new subdivision is currently under construction and is also home to a walking path.  They think in his distraught state, he fell or fell asleep out in someone’s backyard or lawn somewhere.  That weekend he went missing there was a violent winter storm and the thoughts are that he succumbed to the weather.  Inhabitants are put on the lookout by the local police to scour their backyards before the full-on melt is on.  Has me a little jittery.  I hope he is found so he can be put to rest and his family has some closure.  I hope he is found to be living downtown after joining a band and dying his hair blue.  I can hope!

Spotted:  I so wish I had taken a picture of this when I saw it happen on Saturday afternoon.  My neighbor who lives across from me and beside Miss H has the reputation of being, not only a busy-body, but a lawn fanatic.  I guess she doesn’t give a shit about dead bodies, because she and her Hubby were out shoveling what’s left of the snow onto the road.  Yeah, I see you laughing.  I shit you not.  She’s pissed because as she gazes longingly at my house, its brown grass apparent and void of any snow or ice like everybody else on my side of the street, she looks down at her lawn and all she sees is a big pile of brownish frozen crap. Her snow bank remains piled on the edge of her front lawn, its brown ice and shit-colored edges egging her into a maniacal fury.  (insert wicked laugh here)  So out she goes after wrangling hubby out of his comfy armchair, with shovels in hands to set to right a definite wrong and swing those shovels as if it was the last thing they were put on earth to do.  Poor, Mr. Pat.  I would have paid good money to see him heave a big shovel full of snow at her in playful spitefulness.  Good money, I tell ‘ya!

Son played hockey on the weekend and ended up in emergency department with a possible concussion and sore ribs.  Have I ever told you how much I hate hockey?  Yeah.  Now I have reason to pile on the hate even more.  He is 80lbs soaking wet and the kid that power- drived him into the corner FROM BEHIND weighed as much as me…or more. (okay, he weighed a lot…)   Son bounced back up instead of staying down reveling in his pain and made it back to the bench.  He sat with his team despite the pain until the end of the period.  He followed his team into the dressing room for the intermission.  He came back out to start the third period with his team.  He sat on the bench and wanted to stay.  Then the nausea set in and Hubby whisked him to emerg.  Two hours later after seeing nice doctor and, by all accounts cutie x-ray techie, Son is fine.  He ended up missing the whole celebration on the ice, the medal presentation, the fun, the frivolity.  Kid that hit him received no penalty.  Nada. Nothin’.  They said if son had stayed down on the ice like we tell him NOT to do, the kid who committed the illegal hit would have been given a 5 minute penalty and tossed.   That’s not Son.   He has heart.

He was visited at the hospital by one of his friends and given his medal.  He is feeling fine now, just tender ribs but hockey has forever placed a sour taste in my mouth.

Hockey=yukky-poo-poo.

AND, for all of you who need a little reminder why I love to blog, read this and revel in the glory that is logic.