I don’t even know where to start.
I mean, in one week, the headlines have circled around a bombing, a fertilizer plant explosion, Margaret Thatcher’s funeral, Pat Summerall’s death, and now this today?
An obscene amount of wet, slushy snow that goes further to show that winter is never going to let us out of its grasp.
I was slated to have an evening out with a friend tonight, but thanks to the snow and the 90-minute drive home it provided, it was probably better to just stay put and put in some screen time.
Last night, though, we did get out to another local church to take in its beauty:
This is the ceiling of the dome of St. Mary’s Russian Orthodox Church. It’s a place I haven’t been in since Jenni’s grandmother died when Patrick was about 5. They’ve spent a lot of time and money fixing up the place, and while it was attractive back then, it’s absolutely gorgeous now.
That was Wednesday evening–a respite of beauty before the onslaught of crap. And what an onslaught it was. For those who have not had the pleasure of going out and driving in this stuff, the roads are…Interesting, at best. In some places, there’s a layer of ice, then slush on top of that. Then the wet snow. Which gets packed down until it too melts into slush. Honestly, it was like driving home on a Slurpee that had been dropped on an ice rink. I mean, it was OK if you didn’t go too fast, didn’t want to drive where no one had yet driven, and weren’t particularly interested in turning.
The thing is, everyone’s tired of winter. We’ve had it up to here with this, and somehow, it never shows any sign of ending. In fact, I fully expect Hannah and Zoe’s birthday party to require parkas. Or a warming house.
So here comes Friday, full of the promise of a weekend spent…um…shoveling. Or something. I hear it’s going to rain, too.
See you tomorrow.