Snow Job

We got about 8 inches of snow, all told. We did some driving as it fell last night, and it wasn't pretty. We got trapped behind an SUV going 5mph down route 9. This means we were going attempting to go up the mountain without momentum. While usually I am of the "don't attempt to pass in a snow storm" mentality, the Complete Idiot in front of us was causing me to have to brake around hairpin turns on icy roads, so as soon as there was a wide road and no oncoming traffic we cranked it up to a beefy 9 mph and passed him. After that, we made it home without further incident.

I learned last night just how stressful it actually is to drive in bad conditions with your sleeping babies in the back of the car. I like to say that I am not a religious person, but I do think I am a spiritual person. Last night, I begged several deities AND the Buddha to see us safely home as I white-knuckled the steering wheel and tried not to look in the mirrors to check the kids "one more time".

When we got up at the crack of 10am, T borrowed the neighbor's snow blower and cleared the sidewalks and walkway. Then he dug his car out so he could get it off the street and into the driveway behind mine. He and Jack played out in the white stuff for about 5 minutes before the cold was too much for Jack. T finished their snowman by himself, then came back in for hot tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. (Hey, it's what my mom did and it's the perfect cure for the snow chills.)

We spent the remainder of the day enjoying the warmth of Indoors. I made a point to finish the second half of last week's episode of Grey's Anatomy. Before last week, I hadn't watched it in a while. This is the part where my paranoia kicks in, because I swear they wrote this story line simply to suck me back in. Somewhere, an ABC executive is rubbing his hands together in an evil way and cackling about the success of his dastardly plan.

For anyone who missed it, the 2-episode sudsfest included the following subplots: Resident and show regular Miranda Bailey goes into labor. Bailey's husband gets in an accident on the way to the hospital for the birth and ends up in surgery for a closed head injury. Meanwhile, some guy shoots himself in the chest with a homemade bazooka and is rushed to the hospital via ambulance before anyone realizes he has UNEXPLODED ammunition in his chest. He also has the hand of the delicious Christina Ricci in his chest, playing a paramedic who was innocently attempting to stop the bleeding. Once they realize the shell is in there, they evacuate half of the hospital - except for the operating room next to the bomb because (of course) Bailey's husband is in there with a skull flap open and blood being sucked off his brain. And of course, once Miranda Bailey hears this news, she goes into a panic and clamps those knees together, refusing to give birth while her husband is in peril.

I couldn't make this stuff up if I wanted to. So much emotional manipulation was packed into 2 hours of television, I may need a box of Godiva just to get me through the wreckage of the next few days.

Half of me is totally mortified that I actually stared, with baited breath, while all of this unfolded. I am ashamed to admit that I actually talked to my television set, pleading with the characters to make it all come out all right. This half of me bemoans the fact that I wasted 2 hours of my life on this melodramatic drivel.

The other half of me rolls her eyes and says "Shut the hell up, it's damn good T.V. and by the way isn't Patrick Dempsey dreamy?" And now that you mention it, Yes, he sure as hell is.