Winter Wonderland

I love Chuck Wendig’s style of ranting and raving and encouraging us to write, devouring his posts and thinking “shit, yeah!” His Friday Flash Fiction challenges got me writing again after an atrocious first attempt at nano. All of his books that I’ve bought so far (haven’t got them all yet, booze money and random purchases have been vetoed in favour being funneled into baby nest-egging) have been awesome. About the only parts I don’t read straight away are search term bingo (as its sometimes a little too NSFW) and his author interviews. At first, I wasn’t reading the interviews because it was making me pissed off, since buying books here can be hit or miss. Then when I got a kindle and it became oh so easy, I still didn’t really take to them because dammit, it wasn’t Chuck! Sure, I’d look at the favourite swearword, and for a new cocktail recipe, but that’s about it.

That all changed last week, because it was a name I knew. Dan O’Shea. I recognised it because I’d read his posts on Terrible Minds already, so not only was this guy famous (at least to me), he was famous because he was participating in the challenges as well. Awesome. If he can do it, I can do it too! What better motivation! And then to cap it all off, he gives back to the people that read the interview and click through to his site, by giving away a copies of his book if you participate in his flash fiction challenge, on the topic of snow. What more could you ask for?

Picture taken from the aptly named picturesofwinter.net website

Winter Wonderland

If snow was like sand I could see the appeal. Dry, warm, and while it can be annoying to get it in your shoes or clothes, it can be removed with minimal effort. I thought we were going to enjoy our first trip to the snowfields, but it just goes to show how much I know.

Jess is at that tricky age, where parents are always an embarrassment and sartorial choices can make or break you. When she was younger, she loved my dress-sense; the way bright orange contrasted with vivid green and were nearly drowned out by the peacock blue - and that was just in my handkerchief. Today though she just mumbles something incomprehensible (all I caught was the word sucks but I ignored it, trying for peace) and changes song on her ipod. Kids these days.

At least Timmy would enjoy it, I thought, what with snowball fights and making igloos and snow men and all that winter wonderland razzamatazz. But once he got some snow in his shoe he was inconsolable, and wanted nothing more than to be held for the rest of the damn trip. To be honest, after doing snow angels, I can see his point. I can still feel the chill down my butt crack - and I’m not even a plumber, you know what I mean?

The build-up to this holiday had been better, but the road-trip had killed all the excitement. Three days in the car was just too much. We’re flying everywhere from now on. I tried to get everyone excited again, and suggested a sled race, but was met by sullen silence. I admit I lost it a bit there, and ordered the whole family to march on over to the hill where I would demonstrate how much fun it would be. Then there’d be squeals of happiness, goofy family photos, and plain old fun just like in a Christmas Special.

That was the plan, at least. I didn’t realise sleds were so damn hard to steer. Stupid tree. The doctor said the cast shouldn’t be on too long, and I’ll be up and walking in no time. By then I’ll be ready for another holiday. Hawaii I think. I’ll stay safely ensconced in a hammock drinking cocktails.