I’m not sure what to call what’s been falling for the past several hours. I know our truck was covered with ice when I walked out to the parking lot to head home. I know that the truck was pelted with something frozen during the entire trip.

And I know, thanks to The Wife, that the 10 inches of snow we had on our front porch was beaten down significantly by the same freezy, icy shit, so the traditional Snow On Uncle Crappy’s Front Porch photo, shot just a short time ago, is much less impressive than it would have been at, say, 3 this afternoon.

I also learned a couple of other things, both on the way home:

1) No matter how good your wiper blades are, they will leave a narrow strip — the only unwiped section of the windshield — right in front of your eyes.

2) I’d like to have a hand grenade for everyone who thinks its fine to leave all the snow they just plowed from their driveway in the middle of the road. While the grenade would do a fine job of leveling the 15-inch piles of snow I had to drive through on the way home, I was thinking more along the lines of lobbing it into the garages of the offenders. That, boys and girls, would be beautiful.


  1. Now I have an Ice Storm Warning – should i break out the margarita mix and turn up Buffett? Searching for that, lost shaker of salt . . .


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