I know you're going to laugh at me, and I don't care.
Today is the 35th anniversary of the Blizzard of 78. If I am not mistaken, it was the most significant snow to happen in my relatively short lifetime.
Auntie remembers hiking into town after being cooped up for days. Granny remembers all the parking meters in the harbor after the snow plows took them all out.
Ahhhhh, back in the day when the plows pushed the snow into the harbor to get rid of it and the fricking Rainbow Warrior didn't cry for the fish. And fifty-foot piles of snow weren't hogging parking lots until April.
I don't have a whole lot of memories from that storm. But last night I was thinking about it, and I thought about Alex.
Alex was this totem pole my father dragged back with him from someplace Polynesian. We talked about him like he was a member of the family. In a way, I guess he was. I do remember going out the next day to see how he fared the storm:
It doesn't look like much snow, but it was wild, look how it's caked up on the vertical surfaces:
What brought this up?
Well, last night on the news they said it was the anniversary today, and how funny was it that we are getting ready for a big storm on Friday. I don't think it's very funny.
Because guess where Agmorion will be when it hits? Yep. I am here alone to weather the storm and dig myself out in the morning. Right now they are predicting 1-2 feet of snow.
I know I am stupidly receptive to panic and disaster. Rationally, I am telling myself that it will be fine. We live close enough to the coast where we might get mostly rain. We live next door to a dude with a plow. How awful will it be?
Why oh why do these things happen when Agmorion is away??