The World is My Snowglobe
I used to collect those things but after this I don't think I'll need to. This afternoon's fat-flake-flurry felt like some form of torture. Shut UP!!! Stop it! Enough already!
We ignored it and managed to get to my parents' house for tea and cookies, though our niece's car got stuck on the way over and we had to chip away at an ice floe underneath it with pitiful inadequate instruments. We left tea by five to avoid risk of a rerun of same in the dark.
At least we did that much for Christmas. Mum's been holed up for ten days making batches of cookie dough, but she's fresh out of dinner food. Christmas dinner's been postponed till next Tuesday to give her time to stock up at the grocery store. It's all the same to us.
Last night we took the MAX train to the airport to meet my sister, Texican-Mexican just in from Africa, and another niece. Picking them up by car was out of the question, so we just showed up to say hello and stick them into a cab. After several aborted attempts, the cabbie finally found a way to get them almost to my parents' house, but they had to drag their suitcases uphill through the snow for the last block.
In all these snow days, I've seen three bicycles. All had knobby tires and were riding with visible trepidation.
Here's Knott Street, well-travelled enough to have tire ruts worn into it. The side streets are still just a buncha snow. Driving on it, your car moves like a rubber raft.
Merry Christmas everybody!