Let it Snow

A classic Nor'easter is bearing down on New England. Unlike our urban brethren to the east and south who listen to the grave tones of their weathercasters' voices and crouch behind their snow shovels, Vermonters like this sort of thing. Kids dust off the sleds, skis get fresh wax, chairlifts lurch into action across the Green Mountains and town road crews start adding up the overtime. The only disappointment we're likely to feel in this most recent "historic event" is that the really big accumulations will peter out before they get here leaving us with a measly six or ten inches.

The downside is that my older son comes home from Seattle tomorrow via a series of eastern airports all likely to be closed by midnight tonight. That part's not so great, but he's young and resilient and I know I'll see him soon -- even if he does have the patterns of airport seating etched into his lovely face.

This week leading up to Christmas is always one of tender domestics and nostalgia. Cooking smells and rustling garland will conjure childhood memories thought lost. More innocent times project from every colored light. This is why it's called a season of joy and this is also why people get depressed at this time of year. Here's to more of the former and less of the last.

I will part with some shameless commerce. 'Tis the season, I suppose. Just in time for Christmas my publisher has released a new retrospective collection of mine called, It's Just Like I Told You; 25 Years of Comments and Comic Pieces. You can read about it on the home page, or just go buy and download it at any number of online sellers: iTunes, audible.com, Random House Audio and others. Thanks for coming around like this. I enjoy these little chats of ours.