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Spinning Class. - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Spinning Class.
Winter finally came with a (relative) vengeance to some of the places that were spared the Snow-vember spectacular last month. Yesterday, I left early for Rochester under dark, rainy skies and found the roads slick and sticky-snow-covered by the time I arrived there. It was their first significant snow of the season and the SUV-filled ditches on sides of roads were a testament to that. They got close to half a foot in all while I was there, but by the time I got home, the ground here was still clear of all of it.

This morning, less so.

I didn't have to be downtown until 10:30 today, so I left after rush hour but still plenty ahead of my appointment to take things slow.  Roads were okay; curbs and sidewalks had several slushy inches on them as I trudged to two appearances.  The roads had been plowed as I headed back out here a bit after 11, but there were still some icy spots.

Idiot in a Jeep, in the fast lane to my left, quickly found one of them- and I watched in horror as he did two 360 spins followed by a 180 pirouette as he sped over a portion of the 33 elevated over an intersecting road- and came within 30 feet of clipping me during his revolutions. I grabbed my steering wheel in a death grip, used Kermit's anti-lock brakes to great advantage, and was able to swerve out of his way without going into a spin of my own.

It was over in all of ten seconds, but the sight of it keeps repeating and I was a relative wreck for the rest of the day- which, I know, is far far better than the real kind of wreck.

I hit the gym at day's end, leaving at about 5:45, when afternoon rush is usually over around here. Not tonight. Traffic was backed up in both directions and heading west on Sheridan was so slow, I could smell fireplaces from the homes I was going by.  I was in no hurry whatsoever, though, and was happier than most nights for us to be home, and warm, and together.


Two followups to yesterday's post about the Bill Forsyth film Comfort and Joy:

The ice cream truck jingle from the film was so gloriously earwormy, I knew I would never conquer it, so I decided instead to embrace it. Taking direction from this Youtube, I learned how to record it onto my phone and turn it into my ringtone.  There will never again be any question of whose phone that is when THIS goes off;)

Also, while Peter Capadi is not in this particular Forsyth film, I heard back from Kara (and IMDB confirms) that Twelve did indeed have a connection to its production: Capaldi's family were ice cream makers in Glasgow and supplied all the ice cream for the movie.

Now THAT kind of cold I am happy to deal with:)
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