first of the season

My new Brazilian friend must be thrilled.

He's been asking about snow since he got here--when was that? October? perhaps he's no longer a new friend after all--and now we have inches and inches, as much as we've had, cumulatively, in the past couple of years. According to my daughter and the giant snowman at the end of my road, it's the good stuff, too, so I'll be curious to hear what he did with it; surely he didn't just look. He's also got tickets to tonight's hockey game, his first; it's an entire how-the-other hemisphere-lives weekend extravaganza. So I hope his not-really-a-step-dad, an American for whom none of this is a novelty, still takes him despite the cold and the crap that will probably still be on the roads. After all, I'll need a good story, something to distract me from my Monday morning trudge.

Tomorrow it'll also my duty to face a couple of dozen I-told-you-so's from kids who insisted it could snow when I insisted that it couldn't, not 'til maybe January, don't be silly, oh c'mon. I was just playing with them; everyone needs a hobby, and you think they'd know me better by now. But I have no worries about toying with my young charges. Come Monday, we'll all instantly agree. A snowstorm without a snow day: what is the point of that?