Hooky. Its Not Jus' for Kids Anymore

Wowww.... snow.... thought I'd never see it again. Was I secretly wishing that I wouldn't? Perhaps.

It didn't matter what I thought. It came down anyway.

The news couldn't get enough of the UK's impending storms. One news station warned that it'd be a huge blizzard crippling the nation. Another merely noted that we'd have a few flurries coming down from Siberia. It wasn't until further in the evening— when it began to come down a bit more fast and furious— that all the stations warned that we should prepare for a *possible* national emergency.

"...more snow coming our way from France of which we've never seen since 1996—! Make sure you have extra clothes in the car and something hot to drink!"

It came. It melted. It snowed again. It melted. More blizzard-like snowflakes. Then it melted. In the end, it was all this hoopla for two inches of slush and a complete dead-halt of life.

Am I missing something?

In our neck of the woods (East Anglia) some reported up to 15cm. Now last time I checked, 15 cms translates into— uh lessee 2.54cm equals 1-inch, divide by 15 carry the two— just shy of 6 inches (depending on which guy you talk to). Sorry but even a tv-interviewed passerby from Denmark remarked that this wasn't snow. Hell, it wasn't even like New Jersey snow.

Tangent: The only time (in my lifetime) that New Jersey completely stopped was back in the 90's. She was in a state of national emergency apparently. It was over a foot of snow. But that didn't stop me driving 20-odd miles down the Garden State Parkway to get to work— only to be greeted by a sign that said, "CLOSED". Thank God I was in my trusty Jetta... she took a lickin' and kept on tickin'... God rest her soul. (Sorry— unavoidable double-tangent.)

So being that I was used to the flurrying stuff, I pull out the required shoveling utensil (here, it's my unavoidably stunted gardening shovel) to clean all two inches. And lemme tell you, I got a lotta strange stares....

"What's that daft Yank up to now???"

Mind you, as soon as I finished, I heard the familiar faint shovel scraping surround-sound. I felt slightly vindicated...okay maybe not.

I found it strange that there weren't any snowplows, kids flogging their nubile energy to clean driveways, or masses of people catching snowflakes on their tongue, prancing around enjoying how clean everything was. It was perfect snowman building stuff too. Not even a snowball fight in sight.

Is it me?

Hell, I'd be right out there— playing hooky from work or school— dressed with five million layers, trudging my plastic disk up and over the 8-foot wire fencing, then trudging along through sand pits and ponds just to grab a premier sledding spot on "Suicide Hill" (county golf course, Summit, New Jersey). Admittedly, I did this well into my twenties. A sledding addict I was. *Okay, delayed childhood.*

Technically, it was illegal for insurance reasons, but we were never stopped. The grounds keeper would warn us in such a way that reminded me of Willy Wonka trying to stop Veruca from eating the forbidden fruit. He finally gave up in the end.

But I digress....

Today, I'm in my orchid-growing-like heated office, sun shining and the huge storms have come and gone leaving little snow around. Granted, it did freeze up a bit— a minor inconvenience.

We've been warned of more snow on the way, "... of which the likes haven't been seen since last century..."

Ya, but is it enough to keep everyone from work? We'll see.