Snow goats are better than no goats

It’s a sad, sad day when you wake up in the morning, look out the window and think to yourself, “Oh please, Lord, no more snow.”

I’m sure people up north think that very same thing all the time, probably even as the first snowflakes start to drop, but here in Texas where snow is almost an anomaly, it’s pert near sacrilege to badmouth it. But I did this past week, and I’m ashamed.

Last year when it snowed, my daughter and I built a snowperson – male on one side, female on the other. Even gave it a bikini to wear (on the gal side, of course). This winter, we just looked at photographs of Facebook-posted snowmen and thought it good enough.

Last winter we had running snowball fights with the only rule being “Don’t aim for the face,” which, of course, we ignored. This year, we had fights over who was going to brave a walk to the end of the driveway to get the mail.

Last year, not a single pipe broke underneath the house. This winter, I’ve been underneath there twice, and I’ve finally learned my lesson that it’s better to wrap the pipes when it’s warm and dry than to fix them when it’s cold and wet.

So yes, I looked out my front window and thought bad thoughts. And now that the snow is melting, and the backyard is getting soggy – the same backyard that has an old-timey septic tank underneath it – now I’m wondering how long it’ll be before my toilets stop flushing.

FYI – The only thing worse than living with a bunch of women who aren’t allowed to flush, is me forgetting not to do it then having to clean up the mess while they breathe hot fire down my neck.

Speaking of Valentine’s Day (which we weren’t, but I thought it best to change the subject), it’s right around the corner and if I don’t buy my wife a humongous heart-shaped box of Valentine chocolates – the one that almost takes a loan from the bank to buy – she’ll get a bit miffed, thinking I don’t love her. Funny thing is, she doesn’t eat those sugary things because of a blood-sugar-level-gone-wacky sort of condition she has.

I try to reason with her, saying me and the kids would be the only ones who’d get to eat them, but she doesn’t want to hear it. Her father gave her mother big heart-shaped boxes of chocolates for Valentines, and that’s how it should be done. No matter if she doesn’t eat a single bite.

I guess that’s why I’m better at talking about toilets, goats and banjos instead of women. I just don’t understand them.

Speaking of goats (which I did actually mention this time), so far they’ve made it though all this cold stuff with nary a complaint. At times, I thought I’d wake up and find a pair of goat-sicles in the backyard, their little hooves pointing skyward through the snow, but they were fine.

Not only did they survive, but on the third day of the “Mighty Snow Dusting of 2011,” I caught them chasing each other, round and round the backyard, having a good old-fashioned snowball fight. They were having such a good time they even stopped to build a snowgoat, a snow fort, and then stretched out to make snow goat angels.

After all that, those two goats made themselves some hot cocoa and spent the rest of the day relaxing in the sun. How they were able to wrap those hooves around their coffee mugs, I never figured out – and probably never will.

Seeing those goats made me stop and think. If a little snow can’t get them down, then I sure as shootin’ shouldn’t let it get me down. So next snow, things will be different. I’ll be all out in it, knee deep and having fun. You just try to stop me.

P.S. – I have no idea what I would do with a pair of goat-sicles. They’re too big to fit in the freezer, and you get hair all over your tongue if you try to lick them.

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