Somebody woke up our snow thrower. I wonder who it was? Back when I was a young kid, back in the seventies, it would rain when too many people sang the Johnny Appleseed Song. These days, that doesn't happen anymore. I don't know why. However, when we go until February without having that many cold days and only trace amounts of snow, but then suddenly get a good dose of both, you can bet somebody's been whistling some secret cold ditty. These people will claim that they don't make the snow, but I bet if we stayed up all night and kept vigil, we'd see The Snow Makers dancing around a bondfire singing silly chilly songs and beckoning the white stuff to fall from the heavens. And one of them slipped a note to Punxsutawney Phil, too. Phil never knew the answers when he was in prognosticating school, and he still doesn't.
All right, end of rant. It's here, and we can't do anything about it except shovel and throw. And scrap, and sweep, and bundle up. I must admit that it is pretty, when it's falling and I'm inside, as I was today. I got to watch it snow for hours, since I'm working in a fishbowl. And the confused seagulls that keep flying by look lovely in snow.
Did I say working? Well, I'll be working soon. Of all the new job starts I've had, this one has been the most gradual. I can tell that it will be the most careful shoehorn operation imaginable. And the other women at this bank are as pleasant as their surroundings. For the most part, anyway. Of course there's one with an attitude, but the quiet atmosphere keeps her from acting out very blatantly, and that's the way uh huh uh huh I like it. It's funny, though, the way she'll come in with more clothing catalogs and tabloid style magazines that she can possibly look through during her down time, which is any time she does not absolutely have to help somebody. Meanwhile, the teller to the left is boning up on her traffic laws after accruing too many points*, the teller to her right is studying biology notes, and the one on the far end is doing a crossword puzzle. They're all up to different things on a slow day, but everyone except that one tucks the notes away and gets to her feet every time a customer comes in the door. There's a rebel in every crowd.
* getting too many traffic tickets can result in being forced to retake the driver's exam.
Congrats to Herbie Hancock, who won The Best Album of the Year Grammy for his tribute to Joni Mitchell, River: The Joni Letters. Someone with good taste got me that CD for Christmas, and I am enjoying it.
In other news, The Shins were nominated for best alternative CD, but Wincing the Night Away did not win. I can't imagine why.
It's time to turn in. Happy Wednesday!