We have well over half a foot of snow out there, and it’s still coming down hard and fat/wet. Jane was going to get her blood test today, but I have a feeling we’re going to be shoveling, and the streets won’t be fun. I think she may go tomorrow!

UPDATE: the silly person decided to go today anyway, and had no idea the snow was deep. As in knee-deep. I had cooked her breakfast, at least the Canadian bacon part—she couldn’t eat it because she has a cholesterol test as part of her blood test—I don’t—so I ate it, rewarding myself for the driveway. I put on the rain suit (if you don’t live in the desert you should have one!) for warmth—they’re very warm if you’re kitted up for winter; no air gets in or out—

And I waded out, kicking a path through knee-deep powder, found the electric cord in the garage and proceeded to plow our little electric Toro through snow as tall as it is to clear a path at least the width of the Forester: over a foot in places, all the way through the berm the plows kicked up, to the street. Then I trekked back in, figuring well, maybe Jane’s getting the front—she often will do the other side of the house from where I’m working; but no, she’s kitted up to leave, and totally surprised to find out the snow was at all deep. If you’d tried to back the Forester out bumper deep, even all-wheel-drive might have fought for it, because that stuff is incredibly cold and slick. It was deep enough I couldn’t turn the blower, just dragged it back to the head of the row, cord and all, and headed down again, at least saving the petty labor of cranking the exit chute around. I have to blow all the snow to the south: otherwise it piles up in the direction from which traffic comes and blocks the view. So I did get a turn-in and the Forester’s path clear for her. And every time I’d have to step on the garage floor, which had gotten dusted with snow, it was slicker than the ice rink, no kidding.

But all’s well: she got to the lab—and then realized she’s an hour early! I tell you, it’s one of those days!