What an odd morning. We have about two inches of that slushy, heavy snow--the locals call it heart attack snow because so many people who are not as fit as they thought literally give themselves heart attacks moving and lifting it. Mr. Maryn was easily able to get out and the plows had been by, so I finished my coffee before tackling it.
The snow removal is slow going. I'm both thick and strong, but I could only lift and fling a shovel-full using the smallest shovel. Its plastic blade snapped at the weight, and I learned pretty quick not to fill the second-smallest shovel.
So I'm about half-way done when this jogger goes by. I wave and ask him how the footing is. He stops to talk, and 45 minutes later, I have a new pal--all while wearing my PJs, no undies, and Kid Two's size-13 snow boots and no socks. But the guy was so interesting, and a good listener, and geez, why don't I know more people like that?
Anyway, back inside now, pellets still graupeling down, the driveway already coated. If the power didn't keep going out for 20 seconds every few minutes, I'd be content. (Yes, everything's charged.)
Maryn, amused at her long PJ conversation with a stranger