Give Me a Sign

The snow was all over my dreams last night.  We have several feet of it.  Every morning we have a new dusting of what one local weather man has dubbed "snog" = snow + fog (obviously NOT a fan of Harry Potter, cuz that's what the teenagers do instead of kiss).  It really deserves a better name, these dry, perfectly preserved and separated flakes of snow resting on car windows and trees.  You don't even need the scraper to clean it off -- just lean in and give it a gentle blooooowwww.

The snow in my dreams last night was not magical.  It was repressive and tiresome.  Dirty, crusty, hard and completely uninviting.  I think it has something to do with the very large, very red signs boldly placed next to our favorite neighborhood sled hill:

"NO SLEDDING, TUBING or SKIING"

Skiing?  Who in the world was skiing on that hill?!  And, what the cuss are you talking about?  Why not?  What happened?

My guestimate is that some fool took our perfect sled hill and, instead of being accountable for their own risk, decided to sue the hospital for having such a deliciously tempting risk factor in their face which they couldn't resist -- just had to try -- and didn't have the sense knocked into them until they injured their perfectly angelic, I'm-never-to-blame-for-anything noggin hard enough that it hurt.  And they just had to blame somebody. 

Seriously, people?!  Could we please teach our children some accountability and hold others to a little?  I am all for forgiveness and such, but at some point, maybe we're are just allowing others to behave badly.  As a consequence, we are sitting in a neighborhood that has lost it's winter awesomeness.  What was once an 8 is now hovering around a dangerously low 4.5.  I might actually be hearing the dreaded words "I'm bored" from my own children (who are almost never bored).