Worst. Weekend. Ever.

So it started when the Mite said, hey, let's go skiing up in New Hampshire. Cut to the chase: Friday, in his car, the two of us, the blizzard to end all blizzards, stuck off-road for seven hours in a snow drift listening to old The View from Tab podcasts. It doesn't get any worse than that? Don't believe it. After we were rescued by the state police, we managed to crawl to a Holiday Inn Express in some NH town so small I think their name is "You Are Now Entering Leaving—Goodbye!" The bad news was that said Holiday Inn Express had no electricity, so the Mite and I sat around in the dark for 48 hours waiting for the roads to clear, no electronic entertainment whatsoever, with nothing to preserve our sanity other than a deck of cards the front desk sold us for $11. Hearty folk, those New Hampswegians. Stingy bastids, too. So we played honeymoon bridge for a couple of days (the Mite now owes me $3428.42, give or take a few bucks) before we were finally able to make it back to Massachusetts. Thanks to a deep seabed of inner serenity, the NostrumMate had stayed behind with the kids, which was a really good thing because that would have made 5 of us playing honeymoon bridge in an electricity-free one-night-cheap hotel for two nights, and, well, none of us really would have wanted to go there. Talk about your states of permanent depression!

On the bright side, we're now all melted out, I'm back at the bookstore and the Mite is back at TWHS, and everything is roughly normal. For instance, this week's episode of Nostrum (pdf) brings us back to Mr. Jutmoll and his plans for the future. Enjoy it. And think of the blood, sweat and tears that go into these productions, the creative strain, the endless hours of honeymoon bridge...

Does anyone even know what honeymoon bridge is anymore? Life is so tough sometimes.