It's no trouble? It's snow trouble!

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By Bobbie Lanham

I got what I have been whining for: a blizzard. Louisville reported a bit over 10 inches in the storm we got Friday and Saturday, March 7-8.

Friday evening I saw lightning. I thought I'd lost my mind to snow-hallucinations, but local weather bloggers confirmed thunder and lightning were part of the storm. Snow came down faster than the salt trucks could spread salt. I suppose that makes sense as far as the science of snow-salt-road ratios go. But I wanted salt, brine, everything, even kitty litter, spread out in great quantities as I went home Friday.

As it was, I did make it home safely Friday evening. There were several slips and slides, but we made it. We woke up to a beautiful winter wonderland. Everything was coated, the trees, roofs, streets and kids.

The kids made several trips in and out. And each successive trip brought a layer of snow and, eventually, water into the house. When they went out again, wet gloves, pants and socks were not dry. So they got more gloves, pants and socks to wear outside and get wet.

By Saturday afternoon, the kids were begging to go sledding. The kids dug the old sled out of the garage and got on more dry clothes. Someone in the neighborhood had plowed the streets with a tractor and grader blade. We did fine driving, except for the part where the car got stuck in the driveway.

I took them over to Southside Elementary School to sled down the hill. We even took the dogs. Dolly loves snow, so she was in heaven. Muffin, the poodle, tried her best to participate, but she was a snow-matted mess after just a little bit.

After a while at Southside, we had to buy dog food. Remember the billion people at stores on Thursday and Friday? I was there, too, but I forgot to stockpile food for the dogs! So we went to the store.

That would be fine on a normal day. But Saturday was not a normal day: I was not dressed for shopping. I was dressed for snow. I had on Carhartt overalls and boots. You might have seen me shopping Saturday and just did not recognize me. I was the woman in the too-big overalls dressed like I was hiking across a tundra. Much to the kids' relief, they were not seen in my presence. So their reputations are still intact.

Saturday evening we made snow-cream. You have not lived until you have had snow-cream! A pan full of snow, sugar, evaporated milk, milk and vanilla. Now that's a childhood memory for the palate. Never mind what some cautionary readers will say about acid rain and radioactive fallout.

By Sunday the community had adjusted to the snowfall. Great mountains of snow were pushed up in parking lots. Driveways and sidewalks reappeared. By Monday, the snow was melting, snowmen were leaning and boots were drying by the door. The snow will be almost gone by the time you read this. The blizzard, the snowmen, the snowball fights will just be memories.

It will all be gone.

Except for that bowl of snow-cream I have hidden in the freezer.