M&Ms

Ask anyone if they've ever had M&Ms and you'll get the same answer.  Everyone has a favorite, right?  They come in fun colors and are available in the original version, with peanuts or peanut butter, in dark chocolate, coconut, with almonds...  There are even new mint versions, minis, and pretzels!

Some people don't care what version they eat--they like them all.  Others have a favorite color.  Some people have even attributed meaning to certain colors...  Green, anyone?  I even know people who decorate with M&Ms.  Did you know that you can buy entire bags of custom colors?  Or, for the truly vain, you can have your name or picture printed on each little candy.

But here's my little secret...  I hate M&Ms...  I don't enjoy eating them (I prefer Reese's Pieces).  And I don't even like people around me to eat them (ahem...  Mister!).  There is something about the crunch they make when you bite them.  It's just wrong, chocolate shouldn't crunch!

We've always been chocolate snobs at our house.  HRH, who doesn't eat candy, will eat a chocolate on occasion.  When she was about 4 years old, someone offered her a garden-variety chocolate.  It was probably something from the grocery store.  She indignantly informed them that she only eats Cummings!  I guess I tipped my hand there--we love Cummings Studio Chocolates!  Anyway--thanks to a certain new friend of mine (who has graciously instilled in me an appreciation of authentic Belgian chocolate) I have now confirmed my previous conclusion...  Chocolate should not crunch.

So, although I don't plan to down a bag of the little favorites anytime soon, I do enjoy a good marketing idea.  I've gotten quite a kick out of the new "naked" M&M commercials...  I guess the only question for me is this...  Do the new Ms Brown and Green get along?  I can't image that they do.

HTML on the Brain

I've been neglecting my blog...  I know.  But I've been obsessed with working on a new project.

Now, I'm no computer guru.  In fact, other than how to spell the terms, I know nothing about Source Code or HTML.  My working knowledge of computers has barely progressed from AOL to Google.  I'm afraid of Control-Alt-Delete.  And my iMac's operating system still confuses me.

I am, however, a master of the Computer Crash.  I can (and usually do) crash annually.  But, despite my reputation for hard drive annihilation, I am pushing forward into the Digital Unknown.  I. Am. Writing. Code.

If you know me at all, you know that once I get a bee in my bonnet I am a bit single-minded.  I research, ask questions, and generally make a pest of myself to anyone who will listen to me.  And then I jump in with both feet.

My latest project?  Building a website (by myself--really!) for my Scentsy business.  I could have paid someone (that's what most of the other Independent Consultants do).  But where's the fun in that?  So I've chosen my colors, picked a style, and made my first effort.  OK, maybe it's not my first effort, but I'm at the point where I actually have a functioning effort!  LOL

At the risk of looking like I am shamelessly promoting my Scentsy business, I do want to invite you to take a look...  More than shameless promotion, think of it as pride of achievement.  Yes, I'm a little impressed with myself!  Not only is it kinda cute (IMHO), but all the linky-thingys work!  YAY!

So, here is the link to my temporary hosting site. (I can't believe I actually know anything about any type of hosting sites!)  www.wickless-wonder.com.

Well, let me know what you think.  But be kind...  First efforts and all, remember? 

Curves

I am well acquainted with the word voluptuous, 

but yesterday I discovered a new word. 

vo-LUMP-tuous

Let's just say that I can relate to this new word even better!  lol 

And so much more descriptive, isn't it? 

Everything Old Is New Again

I've been snowboarding since the 80s.  Yes, I know that means I must be really old, but there you have it.  The Mister (who is even older) is a purist.  A skier.  A slave to twin, parallel boards.  Every once in a while, I am cajoled into joining him in a run down the hill.  But because I prefer my snowboard, I haven't upgraded (nor updated) my skis and bindings since high school--don't laugh!

Anyway, the last time I went skiing, I actually had some fresh-faced punk ooh-ing and aah-ing over my "cool new" bindings.  He'd clearly never seen anything like them...  He assumed they must be the latest thing in ski binding technology.

Fast forward to today.  My kids, with some not-to-subtle hinting from me, bought me a 1930s Smith & Corona typewriter for Christmas.  It arrived today, and HRH and I thought it would be prudent to check it for damage.  I told her to sit tight while I grabbed some paper.

What kind of paper?

She wanted to know...  I just laughed...  So, we put in a sheet of regular pink paper, and started to pluck away.  HRH tapped a little too lightly--

Did it work?  Did I do it?

It did not...  No.

After peeking inside, she realized it had to actually stamp the paper.  That's about when The Buddies noticed the racket (I'd forgotten how loud a typewriter is!).  I don't think they could have been more impressed if I'd parked a spaceship in the back yard.

Truly, everything is new again...

In a quandry...

I hinted that I was in a quandary... Truth is, I WAS in a quandary... Now it's passed, and I survived my indecision.  But now I am stuck questioning the decisions made by everyone else!

What the heck am I blabbering about? Let me tell you...

I received a wedding invitation a month or so ago. I was expecting it, but was impressed when it arrived because it was rather grand. At the bottom of the beautiful piece of engraved stationary was the note,

Cocktail Attire Requested

Now, I know that I'm not on the Queen's short list when it comes to invitiations to tea, a gala, or an evening at the symphony... But I do know how to dress up a bit. And I have been to more than one Cocktail Event.  But for some completely baffling reason, seeing those words at the bottom of an invitation throws me into a tailspin.

Truth be told, I put off choosing something to wear until the last minute.  I was going to wear a gorgeous, tuxedo skirt and a beaded top.  Very elegant, but not too flashy...  Then I talked myself into a whole lot of drama!  First, I made the unfortunate decision to just check to see what the true definition of Cocktail Attire really is...  OK, I was on the mark there...  But then, things got a little dicey.  Apparently, Cocktail Attire has sub-categories--like, for weddings...  If the wedding is in the evening, then beading and sparkles are acceptable.  If it's a daytime wedding, no sparkles, not ever...  No black.  No white.  Not too sexy.  blah blah blah...

Let me just inform you that I was one of maybe 5 out of 200 people NOT wearing black.  For a daytime wedding.  And most of the black dresses were sparkly.  I was not.  I might have followed The Rules, but I kinda wish that I had just worn the tuxedo skirt.  I didn't want to stand out for being inappropriate, instead I stood out for being the only one on point.  At least I was on point in my own (rarely humble--according to The Mister) opinion.

And that's how it ended.  I am the one in all the wedding photos wearing a color.  I can't be missed...  Really, you can't miss seeing me...  Yep, there I am.

Weeds

I have weeds growing in my yard.  Not one or two...  Lots of weeds.  I could argue that I suffer from seasonal allergies.  I could complain that weeding is a never-ending and thankless job.  I could curse the neighboring yard with it's over-grown tumble of weeds that go to seed and infest my lawn and flowerbeds.

But then I find this...

And a little later, I find this...

And then I find this...

And after appreciating the vibrant colors and interesting shapes,
I figure these photos provide an adequate argument against weeding.
And that is the real reason why I have weeds in my yard.

That's my story...  And I'm sticking to it...

Beach weaners and other things.

I hate to unpack.  I never remove and put away anything from my suitcases after returning from a trip.  The items just remain in my bags... until I need them...  Once I discover that I need an item that has traveled with me, I remove only that one item.  I use it and only then do I return it to its proper place.  It can take weeks (months?) for me to return everything to the closets, shelves, drawers...  I know.  I have issues...

What, you might ask, does any of this packing/unpacking have to do with the title of this post?  Well, it would seem that my lack of love for unpacking extends itself to school backpacks.  Many times I have opened the backpacks in the morning, as the kids are scrambling to get to the bus stop.  Only at that late moment have I realized that an item was being requested for the day, there was a homework assignment that didn't get done, or that something (what is that?)  was left in the backpack for waaaayyyy too long.

Just within the last couple of days, I finally unpacked The Buddies school backpacks.  Yes, I know school has been out for a couple of weeks now, but hey, at least I got around to it.  And I found that I thoroughly enjoyed the treasures that I found inside.  JJ's backpack was harboring a crumpled writing book.  In this notebook he had jotted notes, sayings, thoughts, and maybe he had copied a few things that his teacher had written on the board.  The first entry was simply the written alphabet in capital letters.  A later entry noted that his brother attended his birthday party (don't brothers usually attend?).  There were notes about dinosaurs, Disneyland, and roller coasters.  Another entry read like this:

A box is a house for a shoe.
A desk is a house for a pencil.
A house is a home for a family.
The world is a home for me!

But my favorite was this:

Baby pigs are piglets.
Baby goats are kids.
Baby seals are beach weaners.

That's right...  Beach Weaners...???  Where does he learn this stuff?  Kids today...  They're so much smarter than we were at that age...

Invasion of the Shutter Snappers

I live in a picturesque neighborhood.  It's not my opinion, it's just a fact.  As proof, I offer today's activity.

This evening we had an invasion of shutterbugs.  We first noticed the strange girl in the colorful dress...  She was standing out on the point, taking pictures of herself with the assistance of a remote shutter release and a tripod.  Just in case you were wondering, the poses were interesting, as was the outfit.  Let's just say that I'm not one to put a print dress with purple tights and blue shoes and a cherry-red sweater...

While colorful-dress-girl was shooting herself just off my back deck, short-shorts-girl was shooting from across the street in front of my house.  She appeared to be shooting the landscape (not herself) which is the real reason why most people chose to practice their photography skills around here.  And it probably made for a prettier subject, not that she wasn't cute (after all, who am I to judge...) but she was wearing bright orange short-shorts with her green sweatshirt and hiking shoes...

While short-shorts-girl and colorful-dress-girl were walking back to their modes of transportation, yellow-car-dude pulled up.  He appeared to be into shooting the view, and brought with him a cheering section of children...  Maybe he should have included  them in the view shots...?

Anyway, the light is fading and the shutter snappers have fled ahead of the swatting that I was tempted to deliver...  I love my view...  MY view...  

Lola: Flies

I'd like to introduce you to the Incredible Flying Lola.  

Faster than a speeding bullet.
More powerful than a locomotive.
Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
Not a bird! Nor a plane!  It's our Super Hound! 

Note:  this is not the typical positioning of her ears...

While you are contemplating the outstanding agility and overwhelming talent of this beautiful specimen, let me regale you with her latest endeavor.

Lola is part Beagle (note the cute face and floppy ears).  While we adored her upon sight, it's only been since getting to really know her that we've come to appreciate her unique talents.  Being part Hound, she loves to sniffle everything.  (Big surprise, right?)  I think she could find her way home from the moon if she had anything to scent along the way.

But it's the Shepherd part of her that is proving interesting.  Being a shepherd, Lola likes to herd things.  She likes to round up the toys, the boys, just about anything.  But I was surprised at her attentiveness to a new endeavor last night.

I watched Lola for several minutes last night.  Her behavior was curious, and I worried that her mental health was on the wane.  She wasn't chasing her tail (she hasn't one...).  She wasn't baying at the moon (she is more of the quiet Aussie temperament).   And yet, her actions were quite puzzling.  Lola was walking circles around the chair in my bedroom.  Around the chair, over the legs of the lamp, along the front of the chair, and back around to the corner.  Over and over she did this.  The only respite from this curiously circuitous course was a brief interlude during which she would gaze at the window.

After several minutes of this strange behavior, I understood what she was doing.  Lola was gazing, not at the window, but at a fly on the window.  And her repetitive path followed the fly from its landing spot on the window to its migratory finale at the light of the lamp.  I'm convinced that Lola thought she was herding the fly.  From the window to the lamp.  From the lamp to the window...  Around and around they went. 

I pondered the magnificence of this simple, yet concentrated effort.  I wish I could instill that same stick-to-it-ive-ness in my children when it comes to homework...

An Unfinished Project...

I've been working on a new project (or possibly a couple of simultaneous projects!).  My new blog is one those projects.  I haven't been posting, because I've been trying to get the html code all edited to my satisfaction.  But here we are, and it is certainly still a work in progress...  and the code is still lacking.  Somehow I am unable to get three columns, and that makes it hard to including all the content I want--there just isn't room!  It's rather annoying, but less annoying than having all my posts and photos disappear!

So, I'm back!  And we'll all have to live with the restricted format until I can wrap my brain around all the jumbles of code...  I'll get back to it sooner or later.

BTW--I hope everyone had a fun Spring Break!  We're doing our best to enjoy ours right now!

something's brewing

It isn't the snow storm.  It isn't a fight.  It isn't a stew in the kettle.

It isn't the flu.  It isn't my temper.  It isn't a squabble to settle.

But something is brewing, and I think I know
Just what that something might be...

It's a growing compulsion
To set into motion

A new obsession for me!

Habits

Habits, what are they?  Nuns wear them, druggies succumb to them...  What do you think of when you hear that word?  Is a habit a flaw, a weakness, a foible?  Or is it merely a quirk in our personal nature? 

I've been contemplating the topic of Habits a lot lately.  What is it about the term habit that is so negative?  I know that not all habits are bad.  In fact, there are several habits I wish I could aquire.  I'm not sure I'd ever truly enjoy being in the habit of getting regular exercise, but I am certain that I would see positive results.  If I could exercise regularly enough to make it a habit, I'm sure I wouldn't be sorry.  Maybe I should strive for habitually, healthy eating.  Or maybe, I could engage the habit of cleaning on a weekly schedule.  I'm sure that would make my life less stressful than the frantic, company-is-coming cleaning that I currently do...

But it's true that there are many bad habits that we pick up along the way.  Isn't it curious how something completely innocuous can turn on you in an instant?  And it's usually the seemingly unimportant things that turn into bad habits for me.  Nothing like smoking (which is not only unhealthy, but also stinky).  But the little things that creep up on you.  Like driving a little too fast, or drinking enough caffeine to keep the whole neighborhood abuzz.  Or even something as simple as grooming.  I once had made such a habit of my nightly make-up removal routine that I nearly had a melt-down when one of my preferred cleansing products was discontinued. 

My most recent priority in regard to habit-breaking involves the aforementioned frenetic housework.  Why is it such a struggle for me to keep the house orderly?  I used to be able to claim a neat and tidy house.  I was well-trained by my neat and tidy mom.  But somewhere along the way, that habit was lost and replaced by the sleep-til-the-last-minute-and-rush-out-the-door-with-the-beds-unmade habit.  I gotta break that!

So, that is my goal.  I'm going to break one habit, and (hopefully) in the process I will create another, more positive habit.  Habits are not something I usually go looking to create, and that's what will make this an interesting experiment.  Let's just hope that by next week I have a clean house, but without my manifesting any debilitating Clorox habits!

Demons in the Microwave

Our microwave is possessed.  Or rather, it was, now I'm not sure exactly how I would classify it.

The freakishly scary behavior started just after we moved into our new house.  I would put a dish into the microwave and it would shoot sparks and make a loud, growling noise.  As if that weren't bad enough, it then started "cooking" whenever it wanted, and would only stop when it was so inclined.  It once melted a microwave-safe dish--I tried to stop the heat...  I pressed cancel, I pressed pause, I opened the door...  That freakish thing just kept cooking!  I was standing in front of it, turntable turning, lights on, heat still emanating from the unit, and the door was wide open!  It can't be healthy to be standing directly in front of a microwave, with the door open and the thing still running.  I yanked it out of the cabinet, dropped it to the floor, and pulled the plug from the outlet.

The repairman (I use that term very loosely) came next.  I'm not sure if I'd rather deal with the possessed microwave or the diabolical  repairman.  He arrived as scheduled and asked to see the offending appliance.  That wicked kitchen appliance but on a deceptive show and worked flawlessly.  (Go figure, right?)  The repairman then charged me $75 and told me it looked like it was working as designed.  I described the usual (unusual) activity that we had experienced but he said that unless he saw that activity first hand there was nothing else he could do.

I played devil's advocate and asked the hypothetical question:

IF the microwave ever did X, what would you say the problem was...?

He told me that IF that ever did happen, the expected repair would cost about $200 (that, of course, being in addition to the $75 I had already paid--a new unit costing about $300).  I said I'd pass on the repair.  duh.

So, we've been dealing with ghoulish growling, malevolent melting, depraved defrosting, corrupt cooking, and all methods of madness.  That is, until last night.  It a final act of dastardly defiance, the microwave tortured me one last time with a blatant refusal to do my bidding.  It held my popcorn hostage.  After a long day, all I wanted was a salty, crunchy snack--and that mean microwave flatly refused.  It popped three kernels and then just kept spinning that turntable and the popcorn bag...  Nothing happened...  No more popping.  No heat.  The lights were on, but nobody was home, so to speak.  And that's how it has remained.  A shell of its former self.  Buttons and lights, motion without benefit...  I hate that thing (but how can you live without one?)!  And now I'll be spending $300 for another one.

Proof Reading

I don't claim to always submit flawless posts to my blog.  I've been known to make an error or two, a typo here, poor grammar there...  Odd use of punctuation  :)   Beginning sentences with words like And or But...  The difference being, I don't get paid big bucks to proofread and edit these blog posts (or really anything else).

Last night, in a near-sleep state, I was still coherent enough to catch this interesting oversight.  The ad was promoting a law firm.  The firm was suing on behalf of individuals who had suffered serious side effects from a certain drug.  The ad urged people to call if they met a certain criteria.  The entreaty requested that you call if:

...you or a loved one has suffered from serious effects including stroke, heart attack, suicide, or even death.

I would think that it would be difficult to call and schedule an appointment if you had personally suffered suicide or death.  And to be honest, I'm not sure that heaven even broadcasts that channel.  I like TV as much as the rest of the world, but even I have to think that heaven would have sit-coms without the interruption of commercials.  So what is the likelihood that you'd even see the commercial if you had suffered in that way? 

Just asking...

300 Plus A Few

I'm not sure how I made it here, but somehow I've reached another milestone.  At some point in the past week or two, I hit the 300 blog posts mark.  In the amount of time it has taken me to post 300 random thoughts, I've dieted, cooked, shopped, cleaned house, and complained.  Thanks for sharing those moments with me.  My goal over the course of the next 100 or so posts is to share something brilliant.  I'm still waiting for a brilliant idea to hit me, but when it does, I'll be sure to share.  In the meantime, thanks for visiting.  I'll be posting something odd and irrelevant again soon. 

Chocolate hearts to marshmallow Peeps.

Last year I was peeved when I stopped at Wal-Mart on Christmas Eve.  I was looking for small treats and last minute items for the Christmas Eve celebration and for Christmas Day.  To my chagrin, instead of discounted prices on Christmas goods, I was bombarded by an inordinate amount of Valentine's Day paraphernalia.  Inordinate Amount of Valentine's goods being defined as any Valentine's goods, as Christmas hadn't passed, and the Day of Love was still three holidays (Christmas, New Year's, and President's Day) away. 

The point being, I have found myself in that position once again.  Overwhelmed by holiday items, with the featured holiday still hovering far from the foreseeable future.  In case you haven't noticed, the hearts and flowers of Valentine's Day very quickly segued to chocolate bunnies and marshmallow Peeps.

Of course, in the spirit of chocolate love, this is my most beloved time of year.  It's the season of Dove Chocolate Truffle Eggs, candy-coated Cadbury Mini Eggs, and (although not chocolate) brightly colored jelly beans.  And, while I find extreme pleasure in being able to purchase my all-time favorite treats, it sure makes it difficult to remain faithful to my healthy goals.

And what of the official holiday of the month?  Why is it consistently overlooked by the merchandising department?  Why has someone not taken hold of this prime opportunity to celebrate in the traditional Irish way?  I am not satisfied by a single sheet of shamrock stickers.  I won't be content with a shiny, green, plastic bowler hat.  I am disappointed by the towering display of green Jell-o that mocks me from the grocery aisle end cap.

Please, for the love!  Can't someone come up with something (anything) to stave off the Easter displays?  If I can procure Dove Chocolate Truffle Eggs for three months out of the year, it's not gonna be pretty! 

Lucky Me!

I've said it before, I'm a bit of a techno-nerd, still shocking, isn't it?  I like the new gadgets, the upgrades, the latest and greatest.  But my current run-of-luck regarding technology has been a bit of a challenge.  

I don't think I've ever mentioned the high-tech aspects of our home.  To turn on the music, TV, DVD player, or digital photo frames, we are obligated to use a specially formatted remote control.  This specially formatted remote control cost us a fortune ($250 give or take a little) and it runs nearly everything...  At least it's supposed to run everything.  The problem is, our remote should look like this:

But instead, it looks like this...

Why is that a problem?  Because there is a very complex menu system that should be visible on the LCD screen of the remote...  Note the cracked screen--our menu is not so visible with that cracked screen.  And that's the problem.  Actually, it wouldn't be a problem if we hadn't lost the additional (and equally expensive) remote.  But seemingly, we have--or at least had.

Sometime during the holidays we lost our remote.  We tore apart the house, the couches, the beds, the closets, and everything else in an effort to locate that expensive remote...  All this searching seemed to be fruitless, as we remained the owners of only one (very sad looking) remote.  A common refrain has become,

Who has the remote?  And where do you have it?

That remote had become a bit of a nomad...  Being hauled from room to room to perform channel surfing on one TV after another...  It's been a busy piece of technology.

I'd come to the conclusion that we must have inadvertently thrown out our remote with the holiday trash.  It's been an annoying few months...

Thankfully, I think I'm arriving at the end of my techno-tragic streak.  I have officially located all the ringing phones.  If you call, I will answer (assuming I'm home).

I have adapted to talking to both the GPS unit and the hands-free feature of my car.  We are all getting along (with only a limited number of outbursts).

And the best news of all.  I found the remote!  Oh, Happy Day!

Why am I yelling in my car?

I got up this morning with an agenda.  I knew that I would be spending nearly all day in my car.  But I wasn't unnerved by that fact, because I like my car.  It's a new car.  And (today, at least) it's a clean car that smells really good!  It's a car with a hands-free phone system, a satellite radio, and a DVD player (not that I planned to watch while driving--duh). 

I prepared for my day by grabbing a Diet Pepsi, my iPod, the GPS, assorted CDs, and my cell phone.  And for the most part, I was looking forward to a day alone in my car...  I sooo enjoy being alone in my car--nobody to re-tune the radio, nobody to tell me to turn it down, turn it up, turn it off...  I was prepared, and looking forward to my little road trip...

My hearts-and-flowers vision of the drive quickly dissolved into chaotic humor.  I didn't get far from home before the GPS started yelling at me.  And I don't mean talking loudly, the volume was set at 100%, it was yelling!  Unfortunately, at the same time the GPS started yelling, I was also voice-dialing my mom.  My car then started yelling at me...

That command is not understood.  Please rephrase!  

Of course my car couldn't understand!  While I was saying,

Call Mom, 

the GPS was yelling,

Turn Right in 50 feet! 

And I found myself yelling at everyone to Shut Up!  Of course, by everyone, I mean noone...  I was, as you recall, alone in my car...

What?

Sometimes I have to wonder what goes on in the minds of my children.

The Boy stopped in this morning for a visit.  I spent the entirety of the day wondering when he was going to drop the bomb (and what was that bomb going to be?).  He had to be there for a reason, right?  To be fair, we do see him periodically (since college and his apartment aren't too far away), but still, it was a little surprising to have him here for the whole day.

Mid-morning, we decided to run to Costco for a few items.  While we were there, we ran into Zeke's first grade teacher.  I razzed her for leaving my child unsupervised, but she informed me that the class had been left in the capable hands of the student teacher.

After school, I asked Zeke if he knew that I had seen his teacher at Costco.  He did know, and informed me that she had asked if the tall, dark-haired boy with me was Zeke's big brother.  Here's where it gets strange.  Zeke went on to tell me that he had told his teacher that Mike was his big brother, but not really, and not from the same family, and that he came from a different country....?  Huh?

Let me just assure you that The Boy is in fact one of my five children.  Born of my body.  And, for the record, born on American soil.  Where do kids get these things?

And another thing, I'm still trying to figure out what prompted The Boy's visit...  Ideas?

A What? A Weather Station...

In early December, someone asked me what I was giving The Mister for Christmas.  I answered her with,

A weather station.

I was met with a, "Huh?" and there was nothing I could say to redeem myself, except to tell her that The Mister actually did request it...  

This is The Mister's weather station.

And, yes, he did request this...

The Mister then proceeded to leave the box (unopened and fully intact) on the fireplace hearth for about a week.  This is the gift that he had been threatening to buy for himself for a couple of months.  The gift that I kept telling him he didn't need (because I had secretly already bought it!).  The gift that he couldn't wait to have...  And it sat on the hearth.  For a week or more...

I asked The Mister why he hadn't set up his new toy.  He told me that it was too cold to go out and set it up.  I countered by asking him how he knew it was too cold to go out if he didn't have it set up to tell him...  I just got the look...

Now that our very professional weather station is operational (not fully operational, as the rain gauge isn't atop our house), you'd think we would have a good handle on the weather.  The truth is, our station has been insisting that it's been raining for three days now.  To be clear, it has not been raining, it's been partly cloudy, with a few hit-and-miss flurries just this afternoon.

So, if you are wondering if you need to wear your parka, don't ask me.  I can tell you from which direction the wind is blowing.  I can tell you wind speed, wind chill, and the speed of wind gusts.  I can tell you temperature (indoor and out), humidity (indoor and out), and barometric pressure.  But don't ask me to give you the forecast, I'll have to suggest you take an umbrella--regardless of the cloud cover.