Real Snow - Part One: The Whining

I was whining to myself that we don't get real snow in Portland. Everyone else in town was excited about an inch of powder, while we were stuck inside due to wind. Our house is surprisingly close to the Columbia River and it's like we live in a wind tunnel when the Easterly blows.

My friends and sister in Seattle posted pictures of sledding and covered roads. My dad send photos of his buried house.

We got this:

Not our bathroom window.







And on Friday, things like this were still pretty amusing:


My friend Alison came over and amused us, and in turn Henry amused her. For some reason he would smile, quickly tense up and quiver. It was the first time I'd ever noticed him do it, and he seemed to do it on purpose. Ah, the wonders of cabin fever.