With hype hypier than the hype for this Sunday's Super Bowl, our local newscasters ushered in the Blizzard of 2011. It snowed. A lot. And I'm sure it was pretty bad right out in it. But, from the comfort of my living room it was just pretty. There's something charming about being "stuck" with no choices about where to go or, for us over several days, whether or not to go online, because the car is behind a fort-sized mound of white and the Internet is down. The power stayed on, so we weren't relegated to temporary pallets on the floor for sleeping by the fire and eating peanut butter. We got to make chili and brew coffee and read by lamplight instead of candlelight. We rediscovered some of our favorite c.d.s since we couldn't stream North Shore Radio or MPR.
Had I not been under the weather (sorry, it had to be done), I might have written. But, fever and general ickiness made my focus too . . . unfocused for anything important like plot development. I looked at magazines and snuggled with my dog under a favorite old blanket fresh from the dryer. Today when the sun came out I shook myself out of the mental cobwebs and attacked the real ones attached to my windows upstairs. The beautiful sun on the brilliant snow showed up a multitude of sins in regard to my housekeeping and the days of being confined to the house along with Puxatony Phil's prediction of an early spring gave me the strength and stamina I needed to embrace the Shark Vac like Snow White did the broom and sweep / suck away the dust of a thousand days (okay, not a thousand, but it may as well have been for how dirty everything seemed).
Yes, indeedy. It blizzarded.
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