Snowstorms, Opthamologists and Trout Fishing in America

True comfort, I learned today, is driving home in a mid-November snowstorm with two drowsing daughters while listening to Trout Fishing in America.

Our older daughter (henceforth to be known as The Princess), 10, had her first eye exam today and had the news confirmed. Glasses are needed. We live an hour from the opthamologist's office, and since there was only a half day of school today, both girls went to the appointment and to pick out The Princess's new frames. Snow was flying thick by the time we started to drive back home, and the truck I was driving (my car, Lady, being "indisposed" yet again) wanted to dance with the wind instead of driving through it. The girls were nodding in their seats; the sky was a white-grey with the horizon almost lost in swirling silent flakes; and Trout Fishing in America was singing "Carry Me" through the speakers. Peace comes at the oddest times.

We also found out that our younger daughter (henceforth The Fairy) will need glasses by next year. :::wince::: This is what happens when people who have reading addictions marry each other. Take note and beware!

Now we're home again, the old gas heat stove rattling its fan downstairs like a jet plane taking off, and I'm happy. Yes, the house is a wreck: the dishes aren't done, and the floor could stand a vacuuming; there's laundry on a chair in the living room, and my desk is still mostly buried despite my best intentions and efforts to unearth it. Still, it's Thanksgiving break: The Princess will soon be able to see clearly again; Great Scott gets a few hard-earned days' break, and The Fairy and I will have opportunities for cuddles in mid-day. Am most grateful!