It’s snaining, again. Oh, no, it’s snaining again. This word is one I got from my father, who always said it with an appropriate sneer. Rain, sleet, and snow all rolling in at once. He’d never seen this sort of weather until he moved to the Midwest the year I was born.

I’ve been busy this week, and it caught me by surprise as I idly checked the weather online this evening. Without a regular work environment or TV, I lose touch with the outside world when my clients need me. The weather channel is calling for an inch or so of ice by morning, and more as the day goes on.

Oh [excrement]! I shouted as I ran downstairs to retrieve a windshield scraper from the trunk of our (old) street-parked Mazda, and a bag of calcium-blend salt from the back of the (older) Volvo wagon under the big (really old) sycamore. I also retrieved a square-edged spade from the garage back behind the house. I got pretty wet running around out there, but I didn’t want these objects frozen in where I couldn’t get to them (like last time).

The ice storm last month shut down major chunks of the metro area. For the second time in 6 months a storm dis-electrified about a half-million households in the area. So, after the last storm, I bought the scraper, and the ice-melt, and thought about getting the old garden spade to use to chop ice.

“After the horse has bolted?” you may well ask. As I bolted around gathering necessities, I was thinking, “Here comes another horse.” There’s always another horse.