Snow ya later

As the back yard Atlantis slowly rises from the frozen aquatic mists in the mysterious Bermuda (grass) triangle (rectangular, actually), I pause to reflect on the nature of the first (probably) white Christmas of my life.
Hang on a mo, I must have had one in Alaska, I was there for a year and a half.
What I mean is, the first one here, in Seattle.
'Cause it sure didn't happen in L.A or Phoenix.
Well, anyway as I so ponder the quirks and inevitabilities therein, I come to the inexorable conclusion that as it was basically the same snowfall as any other snowfall differing only in the fact that it was actually on the ground on the arbitrarily selected date of December twenty-fifth, it was, in reality, nothing more than an exigency of random-seeming meteorologic permutation.

If you catch my drift (snowdrift, that is)*

But I got some presents.

The "new neighbor's' face is melting at an alarming rate. Has she been peeking into the Ark of the Covenant?
The new neighbor, if you recall, is a snow person that the next doorers assembled earlier in the week.

It's melting.
The glasses are falling off the face.
The pipe is slipping groundward.
The straw hat is following the pipe.

The roads are clear, the cars are safe i8n the barn, and my fing4ernails are catching on the numbers when I type on the q2werty line.

No other great thrills here other than the conclusion of the Carré DVD marathon.
The good guys win and then wonder if they are, indeed, the good guys.

And who, really, can answer that question?

*See previous post