Magnanimous

"Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow."

-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "Snow Flakes"

--

Yet another day of snow in the 'Natti. My toes are cold in scratchy socks, my girlfriend's best friend (and her fiancee) are coming to town for dinner, and at some point I need to do laundry. These scratchy socks are the last clean pair. They are scratchy, and they are thin. There is a hole in one heel.

All the area schools canceled at the first hour of snow last night. It was supposed to continue coming down as we slept, but this morning the ground was still mostly visible and nothing was falling from the sky. Oops.

Not to be a prick about this city's reaction to winter stuff, but they wouldn't cancel everything so needlessly if they only got a competent plowing system. Snow on the sides of roads hurts no one, and if you can count on a number of trucks to plow and salt, snowfall isn't that bad. Especially since last week's awful storm took out four days of school, why add another snow day when hardly any snow fell?

So now, sitting on a couch in a cold apartment with no show to perform all day, having all this free time seems as pointless as the tornado siren that blared a thirty-second test wail at noon. It's much ado about nothing, a desperate prayer call to a city that does not worship.

--

But it's all good. I'm planning my contribution to the house for Sunday dinner. It's my night, and I am told there are a lot of potatoes and squashes that need to be eaten.

(Side note: Yes, the plural of "squash" is "squashes." But you can also say "squash." The breakdown goes: It tastes like there is a lot of squash in this dish; why use so many squashes?")

So the idea, until I find or conceive of something better, is to do a squash soup as an appetizer, followed by some sort of starchy entree, like twice-baked potatoes. Whatever it is, it has to be vegetarian.