White Christmas ... almost

White Christmas … almost

Taken just moments before we departed on our drive to my in-laws’ house in Philly, where we’ve been since our arrival late Tuesday evening. It’s about a five-and-a-half-hour drive, and we always do it at night, since there’s little to no traffic. Wonder Woman and the kids sleep, and I contentedly steer the ship while listening to “The Howard Stern Show” on my iPod.

The further south we drove, the more sparse the snow became … until finally it was gone. We arrived just as the freezing rain began leaving a layer of ice on all of the pavement; I suspect we’d still be stuck in a ditch somewhere by the side of the highway if the deep freeze had happened 20 minutes sooner.

After spending a total of about seven hours shoveling over the course of last Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday, I was a bit sad about not getting to finally enjoy the picture-perfect holiday setting I had carved out of the Arctic tundra. I was not sad, however, about taking a break from shoveling, because, like, holy freakin’ snow already.

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