Forty Two Words For Snow

I’m not a fan of snow.  I grew up in Florida.  I like sitting on the porch and watching a light snow.  I like watching a snow storm happen.  I despise the ensuing week of ice in our parking lot.  It’s dangerous.  And don’t laugh.  Secretary Gates slipped and fell and broke his shoulder last year.  Same for Secretary, then Senator, Clinton. 
That said, today did produce some fun times.  Even the part where I slogged it to the grocery store because we didn’t have any soda in the house.  You can’t survive a Snowpocalypse without soda.  I even helped another fool, scratch that, fellow get his car unstuck.  He was stuck again when I passed by on my return trip.  In the same spot.
I did so enjoy watching people try and drive in an unplowed parking lot with two foot deep drifts covering the majority of the driving space.  And the dogs loved it.  At least, Istas did.  Kaya, not so much.  Goldens are water dogs, not snow dogs.  And she was profoundly frustrated as she watched Istas gallumping through snow up to her shoulders as though she were swimming with pirhannas.  But, Kaya doesn’t like water either.  She seems to think that venturing into the raw elements is roughly analogous to being a red shirt on a Star Trek away team.  Nothing good will come of it.

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