And, like, I went to book group last night.
But I'm back. Determined to finish this blog. With a vengance.
For the last 48 hours, the local weather service has had us all quaking in our proverbial snow boots warning of a “major” winter storm bearing down on us. You know, the large, economy size type of storm -- with the potential to halt traffic, bury small children and leave legions stranded across the vast winter not-so-wonderland we call Bermtopia.
We measured about 3-plus inches of snow on the ground -- and counting --as Ben and I set out for his morning walk around 7. Aside from one or two intrepid snow blowers out trying to keep pace with the storm, Ben and I had the neighborhood to ourselves.
Me, I sloggled along in the thick snow, occasionally missing a curb because the snow had drifted, softly distorting the landmarks of my neighborhood. Time seems to suspends itself when this happens, especially as you lurch around trying to regain precious balance -- looking, I think, much like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day balloon that has sprung a Very Bad Leak.
And so was I. It was as if the storm was slowly trying to absorb us into its wild, wintery world.
Back to January 13 (see, time travel is FUN!):