The snow was difficult and thick Tuesday night . . . like your mom . . . or the air at a Bingo parlor. There were times when I could barely see 57 yards in front of me - even with my Swiss-Swedish snow goggles on. Oh I fuckin' got 'em . . . please don't doubt that. Extreme weather data collection demands only the finest equipment:
As I mentioned in the previous post, my forthright and earnest expedition for fresh weather data devolved into a fog of bourbon and belly laughs with friends new and old. It was the right thing to do. Sure, I could've stood outside all night measuring and observing snow, but I generally prefer being inside measuring pints and observing the fairer sex. Just like Jimmy Cantore taught me.
Still, I encountered some fine sights on my travels. Behold:
These (click to enlarge - which is what I also tell the ladies) were shot at the new weather center on top of FKS headquarters. I think you'll agree when you visit, it's got real promise. It also has a BBQ grill with limitless propane.
These came on my walk home. I cut a lot of fresh tracks, which never ceases to make me feel fine. When I got back to headquarters, I stuck my forearm into the most undrifted patch of snow I could find. It came up nearly to my elbow, which I estimate to be 8.9 inches long. That's a healthy snow in just seven hours time. I have no idea if this is what our treasured local meteorologists predicted as I am without television at the current time. Regardless, I was impressed and can only hope we get a similar storm later today. It seems iffy, but it also seems possible. Just like my chances at romance.