A surreal kind of Christmas

I've never lived in snow. Sure, it's pretty and all--but I've never "lived" in it and driven in it, and fought people at Home Depot over the last two gallons of Heat de-icer. People tell me the weather is unusual.

They told me that about the crushed ice falling from the sky and ping-pong ball sized hailstones back in April, too.

It's been hovering around thirty for days now, mostly a little under. At night, it's really cold. The thing about Seattle is that it isn't just one big city--it's sort of the generic name for a lot of little cities. Some are pretty good about the whole snow-plow/sand thing, and some are so cheap, it's dangerous to get the mail.

My city, up a hill with a clear-day, up-close view of Mt. Rainer--has exactly one sand truck. It's such a small city, there are benches and colonnades, and people actually use them.

I have the sneaking feeling that there is only "so much" salt, so the road that gets the most attention is the main thoroughfare. It's spic and span clean, but in my subdivision, up a hill, down a hill, and up again, has seen the sand truck once.

This is a picture of my house before this afternoon's snow storm. I should have taken another picture. (before and after?) But it gets dark around four, and I couldn't see much beyond bad traction and spin-outs.

My oldest son got stuck outside Olympia. It took him six hours to drive 24 miles. I have no intention of driving anywhere that I don't have to, but with 90 percent of my Christmas shopping undone--I hope it clears up before Christmas.