When it Rains.......

When it rains (in Manitoba, in March) it STORMS.

On the departure day of the long awaited "sister weekend", the Weather Network warns of a Colorado low descending on us with possible severe winter weather, some rain, and possible heavy snow. As I tap at the computer keyboard, chewing the inside of my lip to shreds, I see occasional gusts of wind carrying humungous, wet blobs of snow past my window. This is typical spring weather on the prairies, but what's not typical is that I was really hoping and planning on getting away this weekend.

I had jumped through a few hoops to take off at 2:00 this afternoon, and have the pleasure of picking up Laura at the airport. She sent an e-mail yesterday, suggesting that we hold up a sign for her because we may have trouble recognizing each other. (We are 5 carbon copies of one another, with slight variations). Laura mentioned that she got her hair coloured, had been going to the gym, and had whipped up a wild shirt on her sewing machine that she was calling her "Manitoba Party Shirt". Carol had mentioned that she may fly in wearing her full-length pink flannel pig costume which was completely unrestrictive, would stand out in a crowd, and then she could start eating right away without the fear of popping out of anything.

Anyhow, about the hoop jumping. My dear, generous friend agreed to come to the house this afternoon and finish off my day of zoo keeping so that I could go find the pig and bermuda lady at the airport. Unfortunately, there is a wicked flu bug that came in on the hocks of the Colorado low. Substitute nanny is unable to get out of her own bed, never mind run THIS side show.

Appearing completely desparate, I then called everyone in town who has even a faint pulse to beg them to come and baby-sit. Apparently everyone has call display. (or real jobs).

So, this captain will go down with her ship. I was going to take advantage of the trip to the city to pick up some fun food for the cabin, but by the time I work my way through the entire inside of my lips, then chew my cuticles until my fingers are bloody stumps, I may just not be hungry.

However, if I manage to navigate through the freezing rain and wet snow once Brian gets home and the last day care child finds his mother, I just may be ready for a tall, cold drink beside a crackling fire in a cozy cabin by the lake.