Queen of Spades - Part 1

Work has been quiet here at the Highlands for a few weeks. The unfortunate events of respiratory illnesses followed by stomach viruses, and now we are in the midst of a a series of snow storms. 

We received a few inches over the weekend, and the local stores were full of anticipation with sales of milk, eggs, bread, water, and various adult beverages to survive the nor'easter due to arrive on Monday. For those not so familiar with the term nor'easter, it is a major snow storm, somewhat akin to a hurricane. It often follows a similar track though the storms rotation is counter clockwise so the wind comes from the northeast, hence the name. This pattern pulls moisture off the Atlantic Ocean and dumps that moisture in the form of snow, lots of snow, not unlike the lake effect snow seen around the Great Lakes. This is why most Mainers have either a plow or a snowblower. 

Monday's storm was forecast to leave about two feet of snow, and snow it did.  All night, all day, and the winds were blowing. School cancelled. I sent Benji-mouse and Frankie out to burn off some steam Benji-mouse was about waist deep in snow, and they lasted a little more than half an hour before coming in for some mulled cider. 

Fenchurch had been faithfully taking Butterface out to use the facilities and it was clear that greyhounds, especially the drama queen of greyhounds, do not like wading shoulder deep through snow. Given Zaphod's sore back and a snowblower temporarily out of commission, Fenchurch shoveled a path around the side door to Butterface's designated "facility" spot. Looking outside I determined that I should take a shift after she came in and I got the kids settled. Still windy and getting colder, I ventured out. 

Trillian:     Do you have cash?

Fenchurch:     Yes, I do have cash.

Trillian:     I am wondering if the neighbor with the snowblower would take a bribe to get the worst of the snow.

Fenchurch:    I've got $50.

A pause in the conversation.

Trillian:     That was a bust. 

Fenchurch:     Was he rude or just no luck? 

Trillian:    I couldn't get past the bank. I waved him down, but he never came over. The snow is easily two Butterface's deep at the end of the driveway. (pauses) We are officially snowed in. 

Fenchurch:    Shovel into the street and let the plow take it away.

Trillian:        What would Jesus do?

Fenchurch:     Walk on it ... he would totally shovel into the street. 

Trillian:     No, wait that was Moses who parted the waters. 

Hmm .... where can I find a Moses?    

Posted by Trillian