Dreaming of a White Christmas

No, I'm not dreaming of a white Christmas, quite apart from anything that it wouldn't be white. At best it's white and orange for the snowplows. But they're giving snowplows. They build a wall at least a foot high at the bottom of your driveway and nothing but a Mack truck will break through that wall after it's had a chance to melt and re-freeze. Right now melting isn't a high probability as it's twelve degrees out there.



Sister Jacque has said she knows where Paradise is. Maybe so and I hope she's right but I can sure tell you where it isn't! (Sis, you've got a fashionably-late 'surprise' on the way and hopefully it won't take too long to get there.)

Update:

Free enterprise still lives. Some kids came around and said they'd dig me out for $20 or $25. I asked which one and they said, "It's up to you, sir. Kindness of the holidays, you know."

OK, we can do some kindness of the holidays. It gets them some jingle and it makes sure I can get to the hospital on Monday morning. You think you've heard whining over what guitar playing does to my shoulder; you ain't heard nothing compared to what snow shoveling does to it! You do NOT want to hear that song!