Greetings, my fellow port swillers, from the heart of the latest SOTCOTW to strike the neighborhood of Port Swiller Manor!  If you like, you may imagine me, Jim Cantore-like, grimacing and sticking my chin and chest out in defiance of teh elements.   I’ve not yet gone outside, so I can’t tell you anything for sure about totals, but it’s been coming down pretty steadily all day and I’d say we’re well over 6 inches.

As a matter of fact, the Family Robbo is just done with a late brunch of scrambled eggs, sausage and hash browns and I’ve toddled down to the study to check the radar and see how long it is before I have to go out and start shoveling.  At the moment (about ten till one), it looks as if we’re into an especially heavy band that ought to go on for another hour or two, but that it will all clear out afterwards.  Needless to say, a topic of intense speculation at brunch was whether tomorrow is going to be another snow day.

Anyhoo, in the meantime I guess I will go back to my reading, which is what I’ve been about most of the morning.  I’m revisiting Bernard Cornwall’s Sharpe’s Rifles – the first of the Richard Sharpe series – and shuddering at it again.  Cornwall, like Tom Clancy, is capable of excellent descriptions of combat, and indeed, some of his tactical portrayals are truly worthy of praise.  But like Clancy, when it comes to character, dialogue and descriptive narrative, he’s bloody awful.  Still, it’s dumb fun, which is exactly the sort of no-brainer stuff I want today.

POST-SHOVEL UPDATE:  Seven or eight inches, I guess, with a lovely crust of ice underneath.  Took me about three hours to clear, but it was light enough so that I got a decent workout without killing myself.   We’re nowhere near passing the freezing mark, so for all the scraping and salting, the roads are still kind of meh.  One gel’s school system has already bailed for tomorrow.  We’ll see about the other two.

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