Of snow, snow men & snow women

We’ve had snow here in the great Northeast Pennsylvania. Not a whole lot, but enough little bits often to make our ups & downs (also known as hills and the Poconos) a bit difficult. It is our understanding, however, we have little to complain about, as others are up to their chimney tops and wolves are eating stranded peasants.

Students who are out of school because of the snowfall here (and live in the dorm) quickly put ski racks on their cars and head for Jack Frost and other slopes. They can’t make it across campus, but driving 30-45 minutes to the Pocono Mountains’ winter resort areas does not seem to be any problem at all.

I haven’t seen any snowmen that I can think of. Or snow women. Friends of mine made up an anatomically-correct snow gal one time, but a narrow-minded person did a mastectomy. I guessed someone has a problem with milk glands, even with a pile of snow wearing a hat and a few pieces of coal and sticks for arms.

The dangers of living on a hill means the three roads I can take out of here (North Street, North Franklin Street) all head down. We are at the peak of North, so it’s downhill to traffic lights both ways; North Franklin is one-way up but I’d take it down if necessary. I don’t like the idea of skidding through a red light; it’s bad luck.

The groundhog comes out of his hole pretty soon and we will learn all about the snow and the forecast for the next six weeks. Cross your fingers.