Slushy Snow

I keep glancing outside to check for more snow. Today the sky spit and glopped down a great big mess on us. No feathery, light snowflakes dancing and spinning like fairies to glaze our gardens. Nope. Big shovelfuls of wet stuff that proved almost lethal for pedestrians (I watched my friend Michelle dance the watootsi on her way across the street in her Just-Come-From-Work pretty red toe shoes.) With slush in my wheelwells, blocked breaks and a lot of luck, I slipped into the intersection from the grocery store (yes, the classical music was blaring, so we were absorbing a little culture at least) into an unusually empty street. "Well, I guess I'm going," I said as we slipped down the road. I've had this experience several times in the past on icy roads, and I've felt that same mixture of dull panic and resignation--probably, ironically, the closest I'll ever get to zen ever. I'm out of control! So be it!

I'm happy to report that the sky has stopped dumping, I imagine much to the relief of my friend Sonya-up-on-the-ridge, who was talking crazy earlier, all panicked about stocking up on water and the generator still wrapped and in the garage and how her husband had to be pulled up their endless slushy driveway by a tractor. There was no resignation for her--no, siree, not after last year when they were without power, water, or heat for two weeks in the middle of a blizzard. I'm glad to think she must be feeling a bit better--and now she's all clean, too, since she thought ahead to impending disaster and grabbed a hot shower while she still could, picturing herself possibly without water for the next fortnight.

But, look, no snow! And though we had an early dismissal today, I do believe the children will be disappointed tomorrow. School looks likely, blizzards unlikely. And now Martin is ready to ditch all our work for the evening to eat cupcakes and watch TV, and I'm more than ready to join him. It's hard to feel like working in the face of a vanilla cupcake with chocolate icing, wouldn't you agree?