Snowjob: the Icebergs and Barack Obama

I didn't grow up with snow, though the Free State was plenty cold. We had frost, and icicles in the crabapple if we left the hose in its branches overnight, so that in the morning it was a fairy castle of tinkling bells. There was also a morning of legend when snow did fall and the boys did not have to go to school. Iwas born too late

So it excites me in this northern hemisphere, and I squawked in the empty apartment this morning when I saw it on the terrace. I went out in bare feet to take pictures and it burned me numb as I picked yesterday's roses.

Then I came back in, made my weekend flapjack with lingonberry jam and usual bowl of coffee and confirmed at last that (and why) I do not like Maureen Dowd. Silly cow. Her op ed piece in the NY Times about Barack Obama is catty, shallow, and sheds an unflattering light on her analytical abilities. It's funny how she speaks of his potential, and compares his supporters to the proud parents of a prodigy, waiting anxiously to see if he fulfills that potential.

Huh?

As if he has not achieved anything. Why not speak of Hillary Clinton's potential for eff's sake? She's a senator. He's a senator. Potential? Did she fall into the blacktrap??? Holding this man up to a higher standard than the white woman?

I could go on. I won't. Let's look at the snow...

... and happy birthday Mommy! She's in London with Pa eating delicious things and drinking champagne out of retro glasses.