- the meteorologist who cried wolf

The city escaped certain destruction, but out in the sticks it was a different matter. I bailed on work early as the snow was piling up. Trucks were piled up at the exit, where they'd closed the freeway, so it took me 45 minutes to get off the freeway.

For the next three days it dumped and got colder and colder. What little melted refroze. Luckily, I was able to work from home for a few days to avoid trying to drive in it.

The kids were on mid-Winter break so they missed no school. They did get to head out to play in the snow for about 30 minutes at a time. After that they turned into little popsicles and came in to sit by the fire while I typed furiously, locked in the "office." ("Office" is defined as that space where I could be relatively undisturbed. It changed frequently depending on nap schedules and other access needs. Oh, for a real home-office.)

Among the hilarity of this storm cycle:

Trying to make snowmen, but the snow was too dry to pack.

Trying to make snowmen, but Treen kept eating the eyes, nose, etc.

Trying to make snowmen, but Lilly kept eating the snow.

Trying to go sledding, but... well, that did happen. Even the little hill in the fancy gated community proved awfully slick and fast enough for us.

By Friday it was time for me to go back to work in the office and the roads were mostly clear. As the snow melts we concluded that we had too many of these little winters and springs and it'd be better to get just a big winter with a single melt. I'm gonna bet, though, that since the weatherfolk can't even predict a single snowstorm they aren't going to make this wish come true.

Hmph.