It did remind me of Primo's baptism, nineteen years and twenty days ago, when another big storm was forecast. My husband argued that we shouldn't postpone the big event, because "all the weathermen do is hype these storms." This ended up being the Blizzard of 1996, which I note has its own Wikipedia page. It ended up being somewhat stressful as we were responsible for stranding boatloads of people in South Jersey. As a result: not one picture of the event. Just a studio picture of Primo in his baptismal finery, a gown and cap sewn by my mother. Unfortunately the photo doesn't do the lace trimmings and acres of pintucking justice.
My husband has paid a lot more attention to weather predictions ever since, but that may be eroding after today. To be fair, the roads were still icy until late this afternoon, or so I heard. My butt didn't venture outside. Two weeks ago I took an epic spill on an icy sidewalk. Think banana peel. Think legs over head. Think Ethel Merman in It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. My tailbone is still extremely peeved at me. I was taking no chances.
So: work inside instead. I called out of work and played hooky yesterday. Hmm, a few hours in a quiet house (boys had early dismissal so not too long) and what to do with myself? I started a just-for-fun knitting project that is also intended as a gift, so no sharing just yet, and re-watched the first few episodes of Downton Abbey. It was selfish bliss.
Today was all work. Before breakfast, a cabled project prototype finished for a new class, the rest of the day spent on work in closed husband's office. I was hoping to get back to knitting but I spent too much time on the phone with insurance companies instead.
Same scene as in the morning, this time with a beautiful sunset. Back to "real" work tomorrow. I will miss my knitting, so thanks to the snow for that at least.