November 24: Radio Recording, Snow Again, "Web" Dip

I recorded my Christmas essay at the radio station this afternoon.  I'd practiced reading it several times, so I knew the places where I needed to slow down, take my time, over-enunciate.  I sat down in the recording booth, took a deep breath, and did it.  One take.  No mistakes.  Hans, the guy from the radio station who is in charge of these little recording sessions, hit a button when I was done, smiled at me, and said, "You suck."  I have been known as one-take Marty for a while.

In a few minutes, I'm taking my six-year-old son to religion class.  It's supposed to snow tonight (there're all kinds of snow advisories in place), so I'm expecting my car to be a snow sculpture by the time the prayer service starts at the end of the night. I'm not looking forward to moving snow tomorrow morning.  I'm hoping, somehow, the snow skips over my little city in the Upper Peninsula.  It can go east, west, north, or south.  I don't care.  If I don't have to blow snow at 5 a.m., I will be a happy saint.

That being said, I have a feeling that I will be shoveling in the morning.  Of course, I'm going to have to ask the question:

Will we buried in snow tomorrow morning?

And the answer, for better or worse, from the book of Charlotte:

"I haven't the faintest idea," said Mr. Arable.  "Tell us."

Well, there you go.  A definitive "who knows?"

Saint Marty loves living with uncertainty.

It's an ugly map