Atlanta in Winter

I wrote about the fake snow in Atlanta in December, so imagine my surprise -- and everyone else's! -- to see real snow falling yesterday! Daughter Hannah called from her dorm room, where she had just the day before been deposited, squealing, "IT'S SNOWING!"

The guys working outside in my driveway weren't so thrilled. Oy and oy vey at the mess. They had rented the Bobcat for only a day, and they were determined to get the new driveway carved out on the side of the house... and they did. Dirt -- or, now, mud -- removal was another issue.

They were here until 10pm last night, dumping dirt/mud into their pickup trucks ("We should have rented a dump truck") I heard one of them say. Jim Williams, Contractor of the World, had hired these guys, and it became hilarious to watch them work in the snow/rain, because they were laughing and joking, too.

This is Josh (JimWilliams is behind him, looking over the excavation work) smiling big before it got dark and the icy rain began to sleet down, coating everyone with red mud.

I stayed inside, kept the fire going in the fireplace, made hot coffee, heated Campbell's Tomato Soup (hey, you use what you have on hand) and made grilled cheese sandwiches. And JimW. was right in there, helping, digging the trench for the drain in the middle of the pseudo blizzard -- what a day/night.

And they are back this morning. Already they've loaded up the last two loads and are headed out. They'll be back to finish up the odds and ends. "Did you sleep?" I asked JimW. this morning. "Like the dead," he answered. I'll bet. He left here last night soaked to the skin in his red-muddy overalls, sweater, hoodie, boots.

And soon the river rock arrives for the new driveway. Let's hope it's on a dry day! Snow still dusts everything this morning -- beautiful. Hard to believe that, less than a week ago, I was outside raking leaves all day on a 65-degree day. That's Atlanta in winter for you.

The snowy day brought Cleebo home. (Yes, named after Cleebo Wilson in THE AURORA COUNTY ALL-STARS; he's just as clueless as that Cleebo, hence the name.) He was out on a five-day drunk -- we thought we'd lost him -- but here he is, back on my writing couch, making himself right at home.

Move over, Cleebo. I'm late for work.