Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn (w/ Bing Crosby)
It has snowed off and on all day, here. Perhaps at its fluffiness, we maybe had between three and four inches, but I theorize that the dry climate quickly zaps the moisture from any snow because now it's all just laying flat on the ground.
Earlier, I went to the grocery store around 7:30 and one of our friendlier CSMs made his usual conversation, as he checked me out. After exchanging pleasantries about the snow, he asked if I had found the whiteness almost blinding. His comment caused me to smile a bit, as I said; "Ernest, I just left the house for the first time today".
Also, if you ever encounter me in real-life, you might hear me say something about this strange phenomenon of closing interstates.
I don't know if it's a new thing that more than one state has instituted to protect themselves from lawsuits, or if it's a New Mexico thing because this is a very paternalistic state. It's just that prior to moving out here, I had never heard of such a thing.
In Maine, we basically kept three feet of snow on the ground all winter.
I've wintered in both the Boston and Providence television markets, but I've never heard of them closing any roads and one of my big stories is from the time we lived in Denver. While there, the wife and I were always heading into the mountains and one time in particular, we had gone over to the opposite end of the state, where it started snowing as we were having dinner in Grand Junction.
Perhaps against our better judgment, we continued on our way toward home after the meal and the snow just got worse and worse. It was somewhere around Vail that I slowed down to be passed by the first snowplow, but its efforts made the road too slick for our little pick-up and especially uncomfortable because there were no guardrails, so I re-passed the plow and continued through the virgin snow, all the time hoping that the weather would clear on the other side of the Eisenhower Memorial Tunnel.
Long before getting to the tunnel, our windshield wipers had become so caked in ice that they were useless, so while safely inside the mountaintop and without stopping because that might have been dangerous, I leaned out and beat the wipers against the windshield. And unfortunately, though it would often snow on the other side of the Continental Divide and not on the Denver side, this wasn't one of those times. The snow was less deep, so it wasn't nearly as bad, while we made our way down to town.
At no point during this trip, though there was at least eight inches on the roadway before the tunnel, nor at any other time while we lived in Denver did they close the interstate. Honestly, before I moved to New Mexico, I had never heard of such a thing.
Earlier, I went to the grocery store around 7:30 and one of our friendlier CSMs made his usual conversation, as he checked me out. After exchanging pleasantries about the snow, he asked if I had found the whiteness almost blinding. His comment caused me to smile a bit, as I said; "Ernest, I just left the house for the first time today".
Also, if you ever encounter me in real-life, you might hear me say something about this strange phenomenon of closing interstates.
I don't know if it's a new thing that more than one state has instituted to protect themselves from lawsuits, or if it's a New Mexico thing because this is a very paternalistic state. It's just that prior to moving out here, I had never heard of such a thing.
In Maine, we basically kept three feet of snow on the ground all winter.
I've wintered in both the Boston and Providence television markets, but I've never heard of them closing any roads and one of my big stories is from the time we lived in Denver. While there, the wife and I were always heading into the mountains and one time in particular, we had gone over to the opposite end of the state, where it started snowing as we were having dinner in Grand Junction.
Perhaps against our better judgment, we continued on our way toward home after the meal and the snow just got worse and worse. It was somewhere around Vail that I slowed down to be passed by the first snowplow, but its efforts made the road too slick for our little pick-up and especially uncomfortable because there were no guardrails, so I re-passed the plow and continued through the virgin snow, all the time hoping that the weather would clear on the other side of the Eisenhower Memorial Tunnel.
Long before getting to the tunnel, our windshield wipers had become so caked in ice that they were useless, so while safely inside the mountaintop and without stopping because that might have been dangerous, I leaned out and beat the wipers against the windshield. And unfortunately, though it would often snow on the other side of the Continental Divide and not on the Denver side, this wasn't one of those times. The snow was less deep, so it wasn't nearly as bad, while we made our way down to town.
At no point during this trip, though there was at least eight inches on the roadway before the tunnel, nor at any other time while we lived in Denver did they close the interstate. Honestly, before I moved to New Mexico, I had never heard of such a thing.