dead man snowboarding

my husband, god love him, is a cheerful, optimistic sort. still not sure what he's doing with me.

this morning, we woke up to the start of the minneapolis winter: 9 degrees, multiple inches of snow, and a nasty gale whipping it all to a balmy -23 windchill.

and the handsome man says to me, "at least it's pretty."

well. i try to be temperate and respectful in my conversations with the spouse, but really - don't poke the bear. i yelped, "pretty? yeah, like a frozen wasteland of DEATH is pretty!"

"gee, good morning to you, too, mrs. chekhov," he responded.

now i must go get blind drunk until april.