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Rumblings around the newsroom Friday more than hinted of the cynicism about the weather.

The room was filled with believers and non-believers. I, for one, felt certain the snow would come. And it did.

I drove to Lincolnton in it Friday. The flakes had just started to fall so conditions weren’t treacherous. In fact, I like driving in snow when it first starts. It has a surreal feeling about it.

Within hours my front lawn and street were covered. I was a little nervous. Since moving into my home I’ve discovered just how close we are to the road. I’ve lost some outdoor lighting and a puppy to haphazard drivers. Thankfully, everyone kept it on the road this weekend.

I didn’t take my car out of the driveway until Sunday afternoon.

My husband and I stayed home for an amazingly lazy weekend. I folded a lot of clothes and cleaned the floor, but otherwise spent most of my time on the couch.

We watched movies.

We talked.

We cooked.

We built a fire.

By Saturday night, I was bored. Thanks to Facebook, my husband found one of my friends online who was also about to pull her hair out with boredom. He arranged a play date and before I knew it, we were atop a hill with sleds in hand.

Turns out, lots of adults take to sledding spots as midnight draws near. There were two kids and probably a dozen adults. We sledded for hours. It was fantastic.

There were a few frightening moments… and I can’t claim to have been a head-first sledder. But it was a great time. The weekend reminded me of my early childhood living in St. Louis, Mo. and Boston.

I’m glad we don’t live in an area that’s often snowed over, but it was nice to get a taste of it for a couple of days.

Sometimes in the newsroom we use a term to describe our coverage… hyperlocal.

The term mostly springs into action when PR people from around the country think a store opening in Blowing Rock will interest our readers. But it’s also the truth. If it’s not happening in Gaston County or doesn’t have a strong connection, we typically turn it down.

That being our philosophy, I never expected to write stories about Haiti. I also wasn’t aware of our strong relationship with the impoverished country. But thanks to Hank Haskins and Lumiere Medical Ministries, I now know better.

This local organization has been the catalyst for an astounding amount of aid for Haitians for more than 20 years. Hospitals and clinics have been built and a steady stream of volunteers provided to operate those facilities.

The catastrophic earthquake that struck that country last week has moved so many people to take action, but these men and women were there even before the rest of the world. They were already saving lives. Their task is even tougher now with this natural disaster, but the mission is still the same… to provide medical care to those in need.

The ministry is sending a team later this week. They would’ve been there sooner if transportation wasn’t so tough. I wish I could go with them and give all of you a first-hand account of our Gastonia neighbors on a humanitarian mission, but things don’t look favorable for me to make that trek right now.

Fortunately, our Lumiere cohorts promise to keep us abreast of what they’re doing in Haiti. I know I’ll keep them in my thoughts while they forage ahead.

Sometimes don’t you wish the driving age would be upped to 18?

I mean. As adults. As parents. Really?

Ever since my daughter started driving last summer, it’s been a nail-biter.

Is she driving and texting? Is she rushing to make it home before curfew?

Now the car is in the shop. You can only ask so much of a car you buy on Craig’s List for a couple thousand dollars I guess.

But even as the clunker sits in the shop, she talks of what she doesn’t like about it… the water that comes through the floor. the glitch that won’t allow her to play the stereo when the headlights are on. the back window that won’t roll down properly.

I despised my first car. My grandfather gave it to me. It was a powder blue 1979 Ford Fairmont. On a sunny day you could see the words Department of Agriculture through the inadequate paint job.

The vinyl seats matched the car’s exterior, and it had an AM dial radio. The tires were always going flat. I learned how to change a tire like a pro.

I think having a car that tests you is a right of passage for most teens. And as parents who have to pay the high insurance premiums and fees for bump-ups, we should take a little pleasure in their slight humiliation.

Hopefully my daughter will look back on her first car the way I now do on mine.

I remember the time I had to plug the broken window with cardboard (I cut out a picture from a horror movie and taped it on to add a design element).

I worked to buy a new stereo with a tape deck.

I remember my friends dubbing the vehicle the Smurfmobile, and I can still hear the sound it made after I dropped a portion of the exhaust system during my first beach trip without my parents.

No car has provided me with more memories. Those memories make me smile today.

I wrote a story recently about an employer who failed to pay his employees.

He told me about how bad circumstances led to the demise of his business. The business, unfortunately, is helping children with behavioral problems. Known as Level 3 care facilities, these homes are “lock down” places for these struggling kids to live.

I’m not sure which is more tragic. People working for months with no pay. Or kids who need special care being turned away.

The case has led me to dig deeper into these homes… how they’re funded… how they’re run… why so many are closing… and what happens to the kids living there…

Check back in a few days. I hope to uncover an interesting story.

I don’t look down on regifters, but there is an art to it.

You can’t just go giving pre-gifted gifts to just anyone. I remember one year a relative of mine (who will remain anonymous) got one of her gifts given back to her. I’m sure the regifter meant no harm, but through careless regifting she offended the gift giver who got her gift back!

I’m pretty careful about my regifting, and I don’t make a habit of it. But from time to time when I know I won’t use something and I am sure it would appeal to someone else, I wrap that sucker up and pass it along.

Really. What’s worse? Rewrapping a present you know someone would enjoy and giving it to them, or stashing the item in a dark corner and neglecting it? I say set the gift free and let someone else enjoy it.

The theory of regifting came to my mind this morning as I was driving to work.

Wham! sang “Last Christmas” and I sang along with my radio. I know George Michael wasn’t thinking of regifting, but the lyrics say otherwise:

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
But the very next day, You gave it away
This year, to save me from tears
I’ll give it to someone special.

These lyrics would imply that George gave his heart to someone and that person regifted it the very next day. George apparently found out, took his heart back and intends to regift it this year.

Sounds like George’s heart is making the rounds. Now that’s the gift that keeps on giving!

For reporters, this time of year often means writing about struggling charities and gift-giving programs.

This year hasn’t been much different than the norm for me in that realm, but I also got to write a story recently about a couple that focused on a different kind of giving . I spent about an hour with the Lipscombs, a friendly, fit couple from Gastonia.

The Lipscombs shared their unique love stoy that’s latest chapter includes an organ donation. Gina Lipscomb donated her left kidney to her husband, Kevin.

You can read the story if you’d like all the details. Click here.

But I wanted to blog about the relationship… a loving marriage that inspired me.

The Lipscombs haven’t been together much longer than me and my husband, and they embody what I hope I also have… a partnership that includes respect and giving.

My husband had a heart attack three years ago. He pulled through it OK, but it was terrifying. Obviously I can’t donate my heart to my husband. I have every intention of doing what I can to ensure that he has a happy, healthy life. But Gina really did it. When the cards were down she went all in for her man.

I hope I’m the woman and wife she is. And I hope they enjoy every opportunity a healthier lifestyle offers them. By looking at and talking to that couple, I think they’ll make the most of it.

A week of vacation just didn’t live up to my expectations.

It seemed like a perfect plan. Take the week of Thanksgiving off! The husband and child still had work and school, so I opted to stay home, except for the first couple of days.

I set out for Wilmington the weekend before Thanksgiving. It was an OK trip, but I got stuck in horrendous traffic and the weather was crap.

The day after my return, an especially peaceful day was interupted by a car crashing into my front yard. It was quite the scene. Thankfully, my daughter and I weren’t outside when it happened, but my outdoor lighting wasn’t so fortunate. I’m talking with insurance adjusters this week.

Thanksgiving Day went OK, except for the flaming sweet potato casserole. Then came Friday. The final week day off.

It seemed things were looking up. I went and hit some of the Black Friday sales and kicked back with a nap that afternoon. But Friday night got right back on track with my less-than-stellar vacation. My little dog, Buster, got out of the fence Friday night. A car ran him over and killed him. The driver didn’t stop.

Saturday, my husband and I had to break the news to our daughter. And later that day we buried our little puppy.

Sunday wasn’t a heckuva lot better — anyone who watched The Panthers game knows what I’m talking about.

On the bright side, I’m back at work this week. Being back at work never felt so good. Now, I just need something to write about!

I pride myself in being a southern woman. But I’ve realized recently that I might fall a little short.

The realization first struck me when I read a fellow reporter’s summary of my holiday cooking disasters. Yet, I was still able to dismiss it… until this Thanksgiving.

As a new homeowner, I have been nominated to host all holiday festivities (thanks Mom!).

So I hosted Thanksgiving lunch this year. I made sure to avoid some of the holiday disasters of the past. I roped together the turkey’s legs after removing the gunk inside (so as to avoid an obscene turkey). I turned off all burners after using them (so as to avoid exploding casseroles).

I still managed to have a moment of mayhem right before we said grace.

My mom brought over the sweet potatoes, oh so neatly topped with marshmallows. She wanted me to heat it up in the microwave. But oh no. I wanted the marshmallows to get crispy. So, I put the dish in an already warm oven.

Everyone was waiting at the table and those little suckers wouldn’t melt. So I turned on the broiler.

A minute passed, I looked through the oven glass to see the marshmallows burning. I quickly opened the oven door and POOF! The dish went up in flames. I yelled FIRE, pulled out the oven rack and patted out the blaze with my oven mitt.

The dish was salvaged… I scooped off the charred remains, put on new marshmallows and microwaved it. But between my oven fire, soggy stuffing and overcooked turkey I’ve decided. Not all southern women have to be expert cooks. We just have to know how to grin and bear it.

There’s a certain level of independence and satisfaction that comes with going to see a movie alone.

I embraced that independence on an Ida-soaked night this week when I went to see “Men Who Stare at Goats.”

As I walked up to the counter and ordered one ticket, I looked around at all the couples, trios and groups filing into the cinema. I decided to make a mental list of what I like about going to the movies alone.

1. No need to plan ahead.

2. No debate about what to see.

3. Less expense.

4. No one there to judge me for hidden water in my purse or how much butter I put on my popcorn.

5. Easy to find seating for one.

But I ran into a dislike as soon as I bought my popcorn. There was no one there to hold my snack for me when I went to the restroom. And another con to a solo movie trip… there’s no one to talk about the movie with once the credits roll.

I guess every experience has its pluses and minuses, but I still enjoy setting out to see a movie by myself from time to time.

Oh. And the movie was very entertaining. I recommend it.

It seems the fear brought on by parenthood never ends.

My mom always told me that, but I didn’t believe her.

I’ve already written about the terrifying day my daughter got her driver’s license (in August). So far she’s only backed into a friend’s truck… or at least that’s all I know of.

But the fear emerges again anytime I read about bad things happening to teenagers.

The Gazette has published several stories about Heather Catterton’s death. I didn’t know her and I don’t know her family. But she was a child and she was found half naked along side a road.

Today I wrote about a 16-year-old boy charged with murder.

I believe these stories need to be reported, but it doesn’t mean I’m not moved by the circumstance. In a short period of time, Gaston County has lost one child to death and another to a possible life in prison.

It’s just heartbreaking and worrisome. We have to keep working as parents, adults and members of society to look out for our youngsters. They need us to be moral, strong and dependable.

It’s our responsibility to keep them safe and usher them into adulthood.