Here's mud in your eye...

I've never cared much for March. Let's be honest. I detest it. It's that nasty precipice month that you have to cross over to get from winter to spring. Here in Brrrrrrr Lake it's made even less desirable by a constant tease--mud, snow, snow, mud, wind, snow, mud, wind. You pretty much have to take a combo meal for the whole month. This year has been particularly challenging because of the undue amount of snow that's fallen. So I whine. And WHINE! And WHINE!!!!! If March were a snowman, I'd kick its head off and scatter its coal eyeballs!!!!! There!!! Take that you ugly month! AND THAT! We escaped to Denver to do the grandkid/zoo/dog vs. cats/family mediation thing. No snow there. Even sun. But then the second we round the bend to within sight of Rancho El Haddo--there you go. A blizzard. And reverting to a former theme...what's with the houseful of dead flies??? Can anyone shed some light on that? It looks like one of those ice age spontaneous storms (you know. The ones that supposedly froze mastadons mid sentence) blew in immediately obliterating all flies who had taken advantage of an empty house in which to breed! Eeery. Back to the mud. Why mud? Why wind? I need answers here! I sure hope April sashays in and restores my faith in life. And soon!!!! Our porch is covered with our muddy shoes that we've had to kick off. We're feeling very white trashy. Maybe we should just succumb and do what I read about in a 7th grade essay the other day. Let's all just fill the corral with water and wrestle! How redneck does THAT sound? Slide in it. Throw it. Make pies. Mud facials. Tackle each other. Should this truly appeal to any of my readers (and I know you're out there...you skulkers, you) come on out. Wear something disposable. Remove all jewelry. What happens at Chez Hadd, stays at Chez Hadd...