“They didn’t plow the highway this side of Point of the Mountain, Dad, I’m going to miss my flight!…
They delayed my flight!…
Maybe…”
And she made it! Yay! Merry Christmas! Welcome home! To semi-sunny California, where it was cold enough it could have snowed here last night too. Our heater huffed and it puffed, and it blew the front of the house to a balmy 61.4 degrees F in the living room.
Could y’all throw some snowballs for us out there, if you’ve got the makings? Freezer scrapings just don’t have that certain oomph, and I think the Bay Area’s done as good a job as it can do.
(Ed. to add: My husband’s offer letter for the job here promised, in writing, “No home delivery of snow.” We were shoveling snow higher than the top of our garage–sold! Take it! We did. But our kids missed out on the whole build-a-snowman or make-a-snow-angel experience, which left me a little wistful at times.)