Not Quite

It wasn't exactly SNOWMYGOD out there. More of a SNOWMYGOSH or SnowForTheLoveOfPete or Snowphooey, if you will. That's like Hong Kong Phooey but without the disturbingly offensive racial references. I'm clocking things in the neighborhood at around 6 inches, probably less but, for the sake of being polite, I'm not terribly good at estimating height like that.

Now, I'm from New England. I can drive in this much snow (I'm looking at you Miss Fancy Fake SUV who tried to sneak around a line of cars waiting respectfully for the school bus to load on the icy, unplowed street.), just don't ask me to park. I have all the right clothing to walk in it (That's you dad lifting his tween daughter over the snow banks, even if the two of you were having blizzardy amounts of fun.) even though my dog can't really stand to be out there very long and he makes me walk so fast I break a sweat. I understand that weather forecasting is a science but not a terrifically accurate one (Just going to look in the direction of Mayor Bloomberg on general principles for this one.) so making decisions about snowpocalypses (snopocalypsi?) ahead of time is kind of ridiculous.

However, I'm 42 now and I am living in a place and working at a job where I don't have to. If I was in a production or worked for a hospital or even taught school I'd get my duck boots in a row and follow the prime directive, "Just do your job." I don't, though, so I'm sitting at home checking work email and drinking lots of liquids and putting something in the crockpot. Because I can.

Thank the icy gods and goddesses.

Photo from the dog walk this morning. A wall across from a school decorated by the snow and wind. I grabbed this with my blackberry because it was falling off as I crossed the street. Cool, huh?