Freezing drizzle turned to snow. School is now cancelled, letting all of the saints come marching-in, or rather crawl along the bottom of the TV screen. Oh, how I would love to be in their number. Nothing like a layer of ice, with an insulating blanket of snow on top of it. My concern? Anne is headed across the river to play guinea pig today. I put some salt down on the stairs, but frankly the walkway was not as slick as the news made it sound. The city salt truck came by while I was outside. A delivery truck had parked opposite a pickup giving it only a very narrowest of passageways. This situation ensured that we got more than our fair share of salt dumped right in front of our house as the salt truck had to carefully negotiate its passage. Anne scraped the car’s windows, while I watched. Eventually, hugged within the egregiously idled warm embrace of the nanny car, she sped off down the block. She texted me when she got there. Then returned home without incident. What me worry? Oh, by the way, we posed for this post’s picture last Saturday, in Forest Park. It was almost sixty that day. Those are Zamboni scrapings from Steinberg rink in the background.