Arlene, Kristoff and Curtis.

Today was a good day overall.

I better make this a good post.

Already the person I want to make it good for will have read that first sentence and said to himself, "Who cares if you had a good day? Why should anyone else care? Why should I read this?"

Adam is in the kitchen storing the leftover tablespoon of chili in a tupperware and he just said, "I don't even like chili."

However, he sprang out of bed at 11:45 this morning and immediately set about making a detailed list of chili ingredients that we then were all assembled to trudge through the devastation to Ukrops to acquire. Because we had to make this chili. That he doesn't like.

I love how the snow looks at night especially. With the Christmas lights on and everything so still and quiet and everyone moving so slowly. I love it. I love that you can hear the snow falling. I sat in my car after I blindly and haphazardly parallel-parked with the engine turned off just to listen to the crackle and tiny sizzle of the snow.

Then this morning I received a phone call at pretty early o'clock from Tom telling me Drifty X for the day. To which my cantankerous crabby ill self replied something very cheerful.

Which was rude of me.

But I think I can't quite be held completely accountable for remarks I make while still in REM sleep mode with my throat swathed in drill bits and pink attic insulation.

Anyway, I go back to sleep for three and a half hours and then am awakened to the sounds of Frank Sinatra muttering about Christmas on the record player.

Margaret and Adam are doing the dishes. I sit on the couch.

We all ignore each other until Adam whips out the Good Crocker Keeping Cookbook from early feudal London. You know the one. It has red plaid on it.

We make a huge list of what we need to buy at the store. We have decided to devote our entire day off to cooking lots of food that none of us feel we need to eat.

I put on all of my clothes. All.

Maggie manages to look incredible for our snow jaunt. She has on sleek grey jeans, lovely stylish dark snow boots and a swinging, elegant cape-ish thingy. With a knit grey beret and her beautiful blond hair making her look very expensive.

Adam and I, on the other hand, are having quite the challenge just to fit through the doorways.

More so me.

I put on my father's old non-matching high school softball knee socks first. Followed by a pair of those white athletic socks that around the arch of your foot become a corset to promote good foot health or something. Then my blue jeans, then my pajama bottoms. Then my blue thermal shirt, my "life is good" shirt, my green hoodie, my giant red winter jacket, my pink scarf, and my festive blue and orange toboggan hat that my father hates for me to wear, but I love because it is funny and colorful and no one can tell if the creatures on it are supposed to be chess pawns or characters from Pac-Man.

Then I realize I have cleverly left the snow boots that my wonderful mother had the foresight to bring to me yesterday at the Mill in the trunk of my car. So I decide to stride out the door in my highly specialized rubber orthopedic shoes.

Which worked just fine.

Boring details. That particular person is not going to find this amusing.

We go to Ellwood Thompsons. I eat a nasty sample of banana bread.

We go to Blockbuster whereupon the heaven opened up and angels and love and small round porcupines in belly shirts rained down upon me. They had a display of those squeezy head pens that I love. And I have been in need of a fresh one. Bing Crabsby has yet to run out of ink, but due to the high altitude in the new Theatre IV rehearsal space, has lost all of his inflatability. So now he has a friend. A snowman named Curtis.

We all three got one. See title.

The man working the Blockbuster register was very puzzled by we three people who had obviously braved the WEATHER to come to Blockbuster and buy pop-eye pens.

Then we went home and made chili and cookies and cornbread and fielded extremely entertaining text messages, and laid in the floor and made hats.

Well just I made a hat.

I'm pretty sure that if we do Spelling Bee tomorrow, the entire audience will be onstage with us just to meet the quota of volunteers.