Caturday night

I dare say that shoveling snow makes one of the best workouts. As long as I try to ignore the chill and the falling snow and all that typical stuff that is the direct reason for the shoveling. It's still falling and is past my ankles. That is not hard for snow to do, with a woman who stands an inch under five feet.

Adam is cooking alfredo spaghetti squash for dinner.
I am immersing myself in one of the most viciously, violently, disturbingly beautiful creepy vampire novels ever written. As long as the feral Twilight fandom doesn't start shrieking about it, I'll be happy.