And just between you, me, and the sponsors, lady, I wouldn't pour any of it over the side
Traditionally 1954 is the year I associate with things like Alan Swann and The King Kaiser Comedy Cavalcade as far as live, on-air entertainment is concerned, but I'll make an exception now for The Frank Cyrano Byfar Hour and its associated programming, by which you may understand that I really enjoyed The Big Broadcast of 1954. So did my parents, who I didn't even have to drag. I am so used to the show existing within its own convincing timestream, I didn't realize the rolling coast-to-coast Legend of Sleepy Hollow was real until I got home—look: Ada, Oklahoma?—but I quite liked their essentially faithful adaptation, narrated with the correct grim relish by Tom Champion; I heard three songs by Jaggery before I left, so I bought their latest CD. (Their keyboardist and lead singer is the sister of someone my brother went to high school with. Especially since the band didn't even form in Boston: was not expecting that.) It is not actually the fault of the Post-Meridian Radio Players that I now have Allan Sherman's "Rat Fink" stuck in my head.
Oh, yeah, and it's snowing.
Oh, yeah, and it's snowing.

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I hope all goes well with the snow. We only had sleet down here.
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Well, to be honest, I think at this precise moment it's turned to rain.
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There's always something unappealling about that sort of rain, at least to me. Any road, I'm glad you're safely home.
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There is snow on the ground this morning. It stuck.
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I hope it's not been annoying snow, at least. We're predicted to have some tomorrow--there's talk of a full noreaster, with power going out and suchlike unpleasantness.
I'm hoping not, but I made sure the generator and snowblower were working and both gasoline cans were full, just in case.
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It's not oh-God-the-apocalypse uncommon, but it's not usual. The bit where you wake up and it's still here is definitely strange.
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That's what happens when you drink and smoke like the sixteenth century . . .
*hugs with extreme caution*
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Especially lesbian Kit Marlowe!
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Any road, I hope you're feeling better soonest. And I'd not mind reading about lesbian Kit Marlowe, so I'm off to have a look and see if it's unlocked.
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Either way, there should be more.
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(Though this situation never got any better.)
See you soon?
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(Blah. I'm sorry.)
See you soon?
I'd like that!
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The leaves of the bushes outside my window are all stuck with frozen snow; it's lying in faintly fallen-in stripes on the yard. The combination with the still mid-autumn light makes it look like a painting from the Little Ice Age. I got nothing.