It snowed in Santa Barbara county this week, but we're just a little too close to the ocean to have seen any of it here (that is not a complaint). I was under the impression that I never had the childhood experience of waking up to snow, but then I remembered this picture from the groovy year 1976. This is me and my sister Anne in what has got to be something like an eighth of an inch of snow in Sacramento, with what Jeff calls our "dirtman":
Though it defies medical explanation, I somehow have another cold. A bad one. Again. I don't want to be melodramatic or anything, but I'm probably going to die any minute now.