The Great Storm—and the dissolution of dinner

 

Snowy scene out the front door

Everybody in Texas—and elsewhere—has their storm story today. Here’s mine: the temperature in the cottage was 48 when I got up about 7:30 with Sophie. She didn’t stay long, and I went back to huddle under the covers. The cavalry arrived in the form of Jordan bearing a second space heater and a heating pad. With two space heaters plus my two ceiling-hung heating and cooling units, the temperature got up to the recommended 68 by noon, and I was fairly comfortable working all morning. Of course, I won’t leave space heaters on all night, so it will plunge again tonight. With extra covers, I was mostly comfortable all night.

I have no hot water. I understand its common for tankless water heaters to freeze, and I’ll call the plumber tomorrow to see if I should do anything but wait and keep the faucets off. I did my lunch dishes in cold water and considered scalding them, as my mom did at our cabin in the Indiana Dunes in summers. But I hadn’t had anything greasy and worked extra hard to make sure they were clean. May scald dinner dishes.

And there goes dinner—for almost a year, the Burtons have come out here most nights for dinner, and either Jordan or I have cooked in the cottage. It may be boredom with routine, or the extraordinary cold, or chili—but the custom is falling apart. In truth, I think it’s a pot of chili that Christian made last week—a big pot. All my life I have loved a good bowl of chili, with cheese and sour cream, but when my digestion rebelled a month or so ago, chili was one of the things that I just couldn’t eat. And the memory lingers. So when they’re eating leftover chili, I am cooking some of the things I want. Had scrambled eggs one night, salmon patties another (I do love the leftovers), and tonight will be the creamed chipped beef that I talked about and never made a while back. And if they’re heating chili inside for leftovers, it’s silly to carry it out here in bowls. So I will dine alone. I usually did that before pandemic, but now it seems a bit lonely to me. Jordan comes and goes frequently, and almost always watches the evening news and has a glass of wine with me, but supper is the only time I catch up with Christian and Jacob.

Our meal planning went awry anyway because we couldn’t get some of the things we wanted at Central Market this week—notably a pork butt for carnitas. So I guess we have to review the entire menu plan for the week.

Those who survived the great heat spell of 1980—29 days of record-setting high temps, including 117 in Wichita Falls—will remember the T-shirts that said, “I survived the summer of 1980.” Now we all need new T-shirts, but I can’t decide if they should say, “I survived the Pandemic” or “I survived the winter of 2021.” Maybe one thing on the front and the other on the back.

Stay warm and safe at home, folks. It isn’t over yet. New storm coming tomorrow, and no thaw until Friday.

 

 

Our snow day was a bust

 

This is NOT what inner-city Fort Worth looked like,
at least at my house

After a lot of hype from weather forecasters, I woke up this morning expecting a white-covered world. At 6:30, when Sophie decided she had to go out, we had nothing, only dry sidewalks. For some unknown reason, in that cold, she decided to stay out for an hour and a half. I did what I never do when she’s outside—went back to bed. But I kept popping up to try and at least see her. No luck, until she came in and woke me. Then she wanted to go right back out. I declined that suggestion and spoke rather harshly to her.

Fast forward to nine o’clock, when I finally got up—to a still-dry world. Snow finally began about 9:30—fat, lovely flakes that melted as soon as they hit the ground. I began to see pictures online of lovely, snowy scenes—from Glen Rose and Sweetwater and even south Fort Worth. My brother called from about an hour southwest to report six inches. We remained gray and wet—and pretty soon, even those large flakes stopped. Now, as I write, it is damp and dismal. Oh well, the snow was supposed to melt tomorrow anyway.

Twice today when Sophie was out, I caught her grazing like a cow. I’ve always heard that when a dog eats grass, it’s a sign their stomach is bothering them. Oh, good! Something else to worry about. She didn’t eat her dinner last night, but I watched her eat every bite tonight. So I’ll watch over the next day or two before I call the vet.

Maybe one of us is having sympathy pains, because my stomach has been a bit upset too. I’ve temporarily cut out some of the things I love—wine and chocolate—and am trying to eat bland foods. Makes for a dull day with no energy for much except napping, certainly not for working.

It’s been five days since the Capitol invasion—some right-wing media and even Republicans are calling the event the Freedom of Speech Protests, of all innocuous things. Still, it’s about all that’s on the news besides Covid, though as Jordan pointed out little of it is news by today. We see the same pictures on TV, and one more Breaking News text that announces calls for Josh Hawley’s resignation may just send me over the edge. Still there are dribbles and bits of news, like the fact that newly elected Colorado Representative Lauren Boebert, she who swears to bring her Glock into Congress, was inside the Capital texting about Nancy Pelosi’s whereabouts. Talk about a needed resignation. And trump, watching the invasion with “apparent enthusiasm,” commented that he just wished the invaders weren’t so “low class.” Have they heard those words from the lips of the man for whom many of them have ruined their careers and lives?

There are much bigger questions about security preparedness or lack of it, and those answers may come out in the next days. I think for security purposes we will hear little about the inauguration or the predicted January 17^th invasion as Washington prepares. If you want to keep up with the latest, accurate analysis, I heartily suggest you read the daily column by Heather Cox Richardson—you can google her or find her on Facebook. Well worth reading every darn day.

Maybe all this is why my stomach is upset. Think I’ll go eat my applesauce.

A dog day

 

Sophie slept so late this morning that I finally woke her up to make sure she was okay. She does that occasionally and, like this morning, most often on a day when I have to be up and about. This morning I was more rushed than usual because of a medical appointment. Sophie did not feel my haste. And once awake she didn’t immediately want to go outside—lay on the bedroom floor and watched me put away dinner dishes and start the day.

My favorite kind of morning is when she wakes me about seven so she can go outside. I can usually lure her back inside within five minutes using a small strip of American cheese—sometimes with a Benadryl wrapped in it if she’s coughing badly because of allergies. Then I can go back to bed and sleep for another hour.

Sometimes in those morning hours I sleep soundly, but other times I doze and do some of my most productive thinking. Yesterday, for instance, I barely dozed because my mind was still racing with thoughts of Wednesday’s attempted coup at the Capitol. I finally got up so I could turn on the TV and see what had happened overnight. Not much except the final confirmation of the electoral vote, but yesterday’s revelation was the extent of the vandalism in the Capitol Building. Files scattered, furniture smashed, even human waste in the hallways. What kind of people do that? I am completely befuddled and very angry.

Internet postings are getting repetitive, calling for instant impeachment—next week is too late. What people don’t stop to realize—or read carefully—is that the House was today preparing impeachment documents, consolidating several versions into one. And next week is not too late because there is an expedited procedure they can follow. I do believe there has to be some swift action, and I think the wheels of government are turning as fast as they can. Nancy Pelosi knows what she’s doing.

I also see people bemoaning that Pence won’t activate the 25^th amendment. He has his reasons, and they may be political and futile, but two things I didn’t realize about his defiance of trump on Wednesday were that he was a specific target of the mob. If they could have, they would have used that noose on him. His life was in danger, and cheers to the much-maligned capitol police for keeping him safe. And, finally, he had his wife and daughter with him—they’d been spectators in the gallery. So not only was he worried about himself but about his family.

One more thought, and then I’ll get back to dogs. I’m hearing conspiracy theories from the left—people who are convinced the mob had inside help, the police let them in, the poor law enforcement planning indicates collusion for a coup or something equally sinister. All of that may well be true, but conspiracy theories belong to the alt-right. I like to think we on the left wait for proof—and that will be a while coming as authorities unravel what happened. Our world is too anxious for instant answers, instant action.

Cricket on the left

Even being a dog wasn’t that easy today. Around noon Jordan was in the cottage unpacking groceries, and Christian stuck his head in to say the front door was standing wide open and Cricket was out. She goes neither far nor fast, and I could picture her with a waddle as distinctive as Churchill’s as she explored the great outdoors. Jordan and Christian both ran out, and Jordan found she had made it all the way to the next door neighbor’s yard. Jordan picked her up, however, because she seemed reluctant to come home. Maybe she was enjoying her adventure.

It was cold today—what a friend described as “bone chilling,” but it was sunny. In the early afternoon, Sophie went outside and lay in a patch of gravel that is one of her favorite spots. It gets full sun, and once again she lay on her side, so still. This time though I didn’t worry—she was soaking up that warmth, and I thought how nice her life is. No worry for her about attempted coups and politics and renegade Congress members. When she came in and came up to me for some love, her coat was warm to the touch.

Snow predicted for Sunday! It’s been almost five years since we had an inch of snow, but the record may be broken Sunday. Not enough for a good snowman but just enough to make it miserable outside.

Staying safe

Snow? Tornadoes? Unseasonable warm temperatures? A sudden freeze? Take your pick—it’s Texas. One hardly knows how to dress for the weather, let along take safety precautions. But friends and I had a sort of negative safety lesson last night.

Five of us were enjoying glasses of wine when the drizzle intensified into a good steady rain, thunder boomed, and lightning flashed. I assured everyone that the cottage is sturdy and added that I love a good storm. All was peaceful.

Until my alarm system began to beep. The youngest among us, a college student, went into the hallway, studied the control box, but apparently came to no conclusions. The system beeped again—so I went into the hallway, saw that it was warning us of a tornado watch, which is of course more serious than a warning. I punched the button that said, “Mark as read,” and went back to join the group.

It beeped again, I got up again, reassured the thing that I had read it and knew that we were in imminent danger. But it wasn’t reassured and kept beeping. Now I don’t mean to play the pity card, but each time I had to go look at it, I had to get up from my walker, flip it around so I could actually use it as a walker, and navigate the threshold between living area and hall. It was, to put it mildly, a nuisance.

My guests began to leave, and I truly was afraid I’d be left alone to deal with that balky alarm system the whole evening. By then it was raining hard, so as the first two left, the door was open several minutes while they retrieved umbrellas and moaned about ruining their shoes. The alarm system went bananas, but I didn’t think it was urgent.

Until the gentle but annoying beeping turned into a shrill siren sound. Somehow in all my fiddling I’d reset the alarm and now it thought my departing guests were people with evil intentions breaking in to do me bodily harm and steal my worldly goods. I didn’t think to use my handy bedside remote control, so there I stood at the main control panel, trying to punch in the code with my too-fat fingers. I kept getting an error message, which flustered me and made it even hard to punch in the code. The remaining guests sat on the couch holding their hands over their ears. Finally I was able to turn it off, and quiet descended. It was wonderful.

As I drifted off last night, I prayed that the alarm would stay quiet all night, and it did. This morning, the cottage was chilly—31 degrees outside—and after I settled at my desk with a cup of tea, I saw snowflakes drifting down. They melted on impact, of course, but it was nice to see seasonable snow in January after the unseasonably warm weather we’ve been having. The world was that dull gray-blue that snow brings, and I thought that was just fine. I’d settle myself for an inside day, as cozy as I can make the cottage.

And then the sun came out, as though it were a fine spring day.

Alas, no snow

We came to Ruidoso so the kids and grandkids could ski, most of them at least. For years, our Alter Christmases (alternate years—I get them on Thanksgiving in off years) have been skiing vacations, usually Santa Fe. But we found a better house, we thought (another story) in Ruidoso and here we are, with no snow while the northern part of the country almost from coast to coast is buried in the stuff. Two bunny slopes are open but they scoff and say that is no fun.

Everybody except me has found other outdoor activities. My two sons geared up and went for a run Christmas Eve morning, though the altitude cramped their style a bit. A big bunch went for a walk later that day and were delighted to come upon a buck who did not run. Deer up here are apparently well fed from residents and tourists and aren’t people-shy.

The four boys (ages thirteen to ten) and one granddaughter have loved just exploring outdoors. Yesterday afternoon they hadn’t been gone long when they all came tumbling into the cabin, breathless and red in the face, panting to get their story out. Someone had chased them and they were sure he had evil intent. Jacob did suggest he might just have been out for a walk, and I said maybe they were accidentally trespassing. One announced with conviction that couldn’t be the case because this is all public land. And he knows that how?

Today they went to a zip line place some forty-five minutes away, left at eleven-thirty and still aren’t home at five. It was, they explained by text, an inefficient operation; the explanation left out the fact that it apparently had a bar.

Meanwhile I stayed home, wrote about seventeen hundred words, answered emails, started a new book, and had a good day and a nice nap. I haven’t been out of the cabin for three days, so I think tomorrow I’ll be ready, but we’ll see what outdoor activity they dream up for tomorrow.

Haiku, snow, and words

I have an internet friend who I admire greatly for many things, among them the fact that she writes beautiful haiku, seemingly with ease. Today was a day meant for haiku, but I don't have the words for that lovely brevity. Last night, when I looked out the back at the deck, in the light I could see big snowflakes drifting gracefully down. If I looked out the front to the distance, an empty street stretched before me and the air was almost fog-like it was so thick with snow. It apparently kept on until about three in the morning--I wouldn't know. But this morning everything was covered with rounded mounds of snow--no tracks, no footprints, no tire marks. The world was white and still and wonderful. Then about noon, the dripping began. Tonight the streets and sidewalks are clear, the driveway almost so. More functional but not nearly as pretty. Tomorrow it will all go away.
It was another day home alone--Jacob's dad took him sledding and kept him all day. Tonight they've gone to the airport to get Jordan, just back from a five-day work trip (so she says) in sunny southern Mexico. Sophie has been good company. I managed to spend way too much time on Facebook but I also wrote my thousand words (okay, honesty, I still have 300 to go) and read some on the book I'm  to review. Evening is my productive time, and I'm getting ready to get back to work.
On Facebook today, Republican lawmakers have been busy. Ted Cruz hasn't given up his dream of denying health care to the poor--is that some kind of Darwinian survival of the fittest test? A lawmaker in Arkansas (I think) gave his two adopted children away--to a man who had raped one of them. That makes the adoptive mom in me scream in pain for those very young girls. Another Midwestern lawmaker says President Obama is about to make it illegal to prosecute African Americans for any crime, and then there's always the NRA which claims that banning ammunition for AR-15s (I may have the caliber wrong) is the first insidious step toward total gun control. If those are the president's goals, he better hurry along--he only has less than two  years. Paranoia continues to astound me.
And then there's the Facebook offer: I could have a set of Golden Girls prayer candles of my very own--be still my heart. I can hear Betty White's laughter all the way to Texas.
Back to the world tomorrow--I hope.

An old story by now

Snow is a tired old story in the Metroplex by now. We had our share of ice and snow early in the week and some of us--count me--thought it was mostly behind us. Yesterday there was a light dusting which proved to be just that and no more. In spite of Jordan's misgivings, I went to the grocery and nothing bad happened.
So this morning when Christian said, "Hunker down. It's going to snow," and Jacob crowed, "It's snowing already," I didn't think much about  it. It was a light dusting--tiny flakes--but it kept coming all morning and into the afternoon. If you live here and watch TV at all,  you know how bad the roads were: at one point, police were working 45 accidents with 30 in the queue.
I had more social plans than usual this weekend and was looking forward to being out and about. Tonight is (was?) a preview at the Cowgirl Museum and Hall of Fame of a special program, scheduled later, on the making of the movie, Lonesome Dove. Not sure how I got an invitation, but I did, and Carol Roark was going with me, threatening to wear those rhinestone chaps she doesn't have. Tomorrow night we were going to take friend Phil--and his seeing-eye dog--to Weatherford for the opening of a show on The Buffalo at the Museum of the Americas--cancelled. We may go to the Old Neighborhood Grill for supper. It will be good to get out of the house and among people if that happens.
I did worry about getting Jacob from school, because the TV had dire warnings about how slippery things were. The mother of one of Jacob's friends picked both boys up about 10:30 this morning. Jacob went home with them to play and was to be delivered back here. But then he was invited to spend the night. Every time I glanced out my office window today I saw parents picking children up early. The school never did officially dismiss early.
There are good things about snow days--I'm more likely to do my yoga when home alone all day, and I get a lot of work done. Dug into my novel-in-progress last night, reading from the beginning, and found lots of holes and contradictions. Then I lost track of what had happened when, so I will have to do that again. I will write more tonight and then read--not the book I'm reading for review but a mystery that I can lose myself in.
Next week doesn't look much better--freezing rain and sleet tonight, rain until midweek, but by Tuesday the predicted high is 77. Today it didn't go above 28. Want to talk about whether or not climate change exists? I have a few words, not polite, for the legislator who brought a snowball into Congress to demonstrate that the earth is not warming!

A doggy, snow week

Sophie at her most adorable, saying, "Notice how cute I am." The week has been much absorbed with dogs. One of Jordan's two Cavalier King Charles Spaniels developed pancreatitis--during a snow day when the vet didn't open until noon. She was in the vet's overnight and the subject of much concern . Since it was a snow day, Jacob was here and Jordan brought Cricket, the other dog, because the two are not used to being separated. Sophie thought that was delightful--a playmate. Cricket, and her sister Juney, are quiet, reserved dogs who prefer to sit on your lap and not move. Sophie made overtures to Crickey, which Jacob interpreted as bullying, causing him to lock her in the office which drove her frantic. I explained we couldn't lock her up in her own house when we were all here and if he'd calm down, Sophie would too. And that's just what happened. Juney is now happily at home with her sister and feeling better.
But Sophie loves happy hour, when it seems there's almost always someone here for a glass of wine. First of all it's her signal to become desperately hungry. After she's fed, she wants attention and shows us how cute she is.
Sometimes I think about living alone, which mostly I like, and think I couldn't do it without a dog. Yes, I talk to her, and she responds. Yes, she gives me comfort in the cool of the night--if someone threatened the house, she'd sound the alert. Though pretty much when she's in her crate, she considers herself "off duty" and doesn't bark until she wants to go outside--usually about four in the morning, thank you very much. But then it's not a bark but a sort of soft "Ruff." She's crated because she seems to have forgotten that she can wake me up to go out and has left puddle marks on my kilim rugs. I don't think I've ever in my life had a perfectly house-trained dog, and I consider it a deficiency on my part.
Other than that it's been a snow week--two days of school closed and then yesterday was a gorgeous day, sunny, not too cold. Today the prediction was for a light dusting of snow in the morning, though Jordan looked at the radar--which looked like a huge something was going to hit us--and announced I should not go to the grocery. I protested it's liable to be much worse the next two mornings, and I should go when I can. The light dusting was barely even that--tiny flakes that disappeared before they hit the ground. At her urging I went to the store so early that I was home by 9:30 and can stay home the next two days, although I have evening plans both nights that I hope the weather doesn't cancel.
Saturday is the Cowtown Marathon, an event for which planning began in my living room many many years ago. I well remember the first marathon--it began to sleet about ten the night before, and my ex, Joel, one of the founders, sat in our bedroom and said, "Shit! I don't want to hear sleet." Next morning I drove four young children to the North Side (I was doing publicity for the marathon) and we stayed all day.  Now when I think of having turned them loose on East Exchange I am horrified but they assure me they were always with a bunch of kids.
This Saturday it's supposed to be freezing rain. Jordan and Jacob are scheduled to run, Christian to walk. We'll see what happens, but the weather forecast does bring back memories.
The trouble with snow days, for me, is that I get too comfortable staying home and then have to remind myself I am perfectly capable of moving about in the world. Felt a bit of that this morning.

Anticipatory anxiety

This winter may be the worst I remember--oh, not here in Texas though for what we're used to it's been worse than usual. I read somewhere today that Texas has two seasons--winter and summer. And they take turns appearing in the same week. But across the country, particularly the Northeast, the pictures of snowdrifts are appalling. I grew up in Chicago, and I remember bad winters, but nothing like what we're seeing. My prayers go out to those stuck in this snowy winter land. A little snow is pretty--but this is beyond belief.
But tonight, in Texas, we're hearing bad forecasts, and I admit to a little anticipatory anxiety. Tomorrow it is to rain; Sunday night in the wee hours it will turn to sleet, and Monday the high will be 32--won't do much to get rid of that sleet. I am preparing to hunker down for two or three days. Invited friends for a quick and light sandwich supper tomorrow--so we could discuss the couch and finish one part--but send them home in time for the Oscars/Downton Abbey, whichever they choose. One wrote me, "We'll see you tomorrow night, before winter hits us again." And I'll be grateful for their company in what I anticipate will be a time of seclusion.
I have already made up my mind that Jacob won't have school Monday--I don't know why it takes the school board so long to decide this when it's already clear to me. If that happens, and if his dad's office is closed, he'll stay home; if school is closed and his dad's office isn't, he'll spend a long day with me. If he has school, I already have a neighbor in mind to ask to bring him home. I don't want to venture even across the street on sleet-covered streets. Oh, my, how I dislike that kind of weather.
But the funny thing is that sometimes the forecasters get us all in a snit, like my anticipatory anxiety, and then it turns out not to be nearly as bad as predicted. It may not sleet, or it may warm up enough to melt--or who really knows what can happen?
I liked the old days of weather forecasting, when it wasn't such a precise science, when they didn't tell us a week ahead what weather to dread, when they didn't tell us the cold index or the heat. Tell me it's 32--I don't need to know the chill factor.
You all stay warm and safe and pray for the rain we need so much but not for sleet. Please.
 

Snow--or lack thereof--dictates

I woke this morning with a schedule in my head. I'd work a bit in the morning, go to the Planned Parenthood Luncheon downtown, have a nap, and do a late grocery run. Once again, snow--and the weather forecast--changed my whole plan. Between a half inch and an inch was forecast from ten in the morning on. I made a speed run to the grocery, wimped out on the luncheon because it would be just when the snow hit, and settled down for a long day of work. You guessed it--I saw not one snowflake. Streets are dry except for patchy ice, and all is well with the world. I should have gone to the luncheon. I missed a good menu and, worse yet, good friends.
I do not want this to repeat again tomorrow, because I have to go to the store for fresh fish for company tomorrow night. The weather forecasters assure us the snow is over, but at this point I'm not sure about them.
Staying home for a long day of work was not bad. Once again I did a lot of little things that needed doing, including some outside chores I'd neglected the day before. And I did my yoga, which went a lot better today--my muscles seemed to be remembering the pattern or rhythm.
But the big thing for me, was that I am getting back to work as a writer. I'd had the intent ever since Christmas but kept getting distracted--which tells me my heart wasn't really in it. Several things have combined to renew my enthusiasm, and I can feel work--and enthusiasm--rising in me like a great tide (oops, I think that's hyperbole). Several people have told me how anxious they are for the next Kelly O'Connell Mystery--now even if my reputation and "fame" are purely local, that's a good feeling. Then the other day I received first edits on Kelly #5--Deception in Strange Places--and set about working on them today. A tip of my hat to my editor, Suzanne Barrett, who "gets" my writing and makes it oh so much better, while making me adhere to some rules of grammar I casually cast aside--alright is not a word. It's all right.
Yesterday, at Suzanne's request, I spent much of the day revising the synopsis for Kelly #6--don't know the title but it will have something to do with revenge. So now, ideas for that one are crowding my brain, and I'm anxious to get back to it. In a flurry of inspiration (?), I actually wrote 10,000 words in January and then many other things, including kids visit and taxes, took me away. But I think I'm about to settle down to a good routine of writing and daily yoga, and I'm happy about that. So snow days...and even non-snow days...aren't all bad.
I have the opening ceremonies of the Olympics on, muted, and frankly, except for one wonderful display (maybe China?) I find it boring. It's going to be a long two or three weeks.
Stay safe and warm everyone--it's still going down into the twenties here tonight. But a brief warm-up is headed our way.

The joy of a snow day

I was unprepared for snow today. I’d heard vague references to a light dusting on the weather report, but I didn’t take it seriously. In fact, I went to bed still debating whether to go to the grocery today or tomorrow. The white world that greeted me was sort of an executive decision from above. I would stay home all day. That "light dusting" came down much of the morning, sometimes heavily, sometimes little tiny flakes you could barely see. The streets, at least major, weren’t too bad but getting across the front porch and down the driveway are the challenges.

So I dug in and did a lot of things around the house I’d been putting off—including the first yoga I’ve done in seven weeks, since I broke that bone in my foot. I suppose that was part laziness because I could have done some poses with the orthopedic shoes. I regretted my folly this morning because my regular routine wore me out, some places didn’t bend like they should, some poses were downright difficult. It was fun to do in my sunroom with windows all around so I could watch the snow. But it’s also difficult to do yoga in full sweats—and too cold in that window room to take off the heavy clothes.

A flurry of excitement around noon—false rumor that Jacob would get out of school at noon. True time was 2:25 but his grandparents, who were to come get him, decided against it—for good reason (they live 30-45 minutes away). Jordan decreed I was not to leave the house, a decree I willingly obeyed, so she commandeered someone from her office with four-wheel drive to bring her to the school. Tomorrow is still up in the air—no school, so I imagine I’ll get him early in the morning. I have tentatively cancelled my plans for tomorrow but will try to go to the grocery in the late afternoon. High today of 22 isn’t going to melt anything—but 37 tomorrow and 61 Saturday.

I thought often today of my childhood in Chicago with deep snow, sledding, ice skating, and not letting a bit of ice and snow stop our world. I don’t remember school ever being cancelled but I suppose it probably was.  And then I spent several years in northern Missouri where the roads iced into ruts into which my VW didn’t fit. I remember looking out the window and thinking if I could just wake up one morning and not see dirty gray snow. We lived in a small town where people still used coal, and the snow got really nasty. But I was younger then and less fearful of falling.

In Fort Worth, the world is cancelled for an inch of snow. My church closed, as did several others. National TV programming was pre-empted all morning by “storm” coverage, and the highways were blocked by long lines and wrecked cars. The national news even mentioned the mess in Texas over not that much snow. No thaw tonight, but the streets look pretty good.

I spent much of the morning thinking of the errands and outdoor chores I’d have done yesterday if I’d taken seriously the mention of a possible dusting of light snow. This is more than a dusting, but at least it won’t melt and refreeze overnight. And I won’t whine and complain when I watch news clips from the northeast. Now if I can just get down the driveway tomorrow!