While I would love to say that I’ve been snowed in and been too busy sledding with my daughter to post any updates in a WEEK, it would not be true.

You all are too smart and observant to confuse sledding in the desert with sledding on the snow–I think the bare feet gave it away.

As for my week absence, I think a tummy full of Grandma Penny’s dressing and pecan pie; a camera full of sweetness; and bags full of Black Friday deals would sum it up fairly nicely. But for those of you kind of enough to read this blog I will illuminate further in a bit.

First, where there heck where we?

Read for yourself:
Growing up in the desert of the Southwest, a trip to White Sands National Monument was the closest that my family came to experiencing a snow day. Granted our school closed anytime frozen precipitation fell from the sky even if it melted before it hit the ground.

This is a sore subject with my husband who had to trudge through four feet of snow in subzero temperatures, and never once had a “snow day.” Of course our snow days never involved sledding, snow angels, snow ball fights, or the mythical ice forts we saw in movies.

The day after my cousin’s June wedding, we rounded up the remaining relatives and rode out to the endless dunes.

Yes, that is me at the top of the dunes. I was the first one to the top! No, I’m not at all competitive.

Now is it snow for sliding?

Or sand for burying?

Either way, it’s breathtaking!

Oh, and I’m not the only competitive one in my family. Check out Uncle Peter–Foul!

And look at Nate, he’s clearly got a leg up on the pile.

As for this post being prophetic….There was no snow on the ground when I published “snow day,” but we had a fresh blanket of white in the morning….