Four Letters, Starts with S...

Sheesh, I'm tired of writing about snow. I'm tired of the dirty piles of used up, half-melted snow that turn to concrete when rain is added. I'm anxiously checking my basement every hour to make sure no more water seeps in as the saturated ground tries to absorb more moisture.

But all day today, talk of the Big One has grown to grade-school snow day proportions. They're currently calling for 10-14 inches by mid-day tomorrow. And it's the wet stuff that takes Paul Bunyon's strength and the back of Babe the Blue Ox to shovel.

Though you'd never know it right now. At the moment, and as I walked up the hill from the train, slush was falling from the skies. Not snow, not rain, not sleet - slush. There was just enough ice content to make things potentially dangerous, and my YakTrax were happily drying themselves in my back hallway.

Once it turns to snow, I'm sure it will be pretty. I'm well stocked in cabernet and still have a pot of leftover chili. I'll be fine, and the prospect of another adult snow day - with the sleeping in and possibility of pilates - is prettier than the grey slush currently plopping from the heavens.