dashing through the snow

As I watch the dawn break over the empty rolling hills of eastern Pennsylvania, Christmas carols in some undecipherable language wafting from the radio--no, the CD player: it's that damn Polish CD--I come to reflect on my discoveries of the past 12 hours or so:

I actually found a use for their Jeep's 4-wheel drive! This Ohio service plaza apaprently never got plowed, so the car was stuck in about 9 inches of lovely gray mush. A little 4x4 lovin' is all it took.

The nice thing about the radio on Christmas Eve is that a bunch of stations decided to forgo commercials for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

These stations, however, did not give up bragging about their 48 hours of music. You'd think they'd send their DJs home so they could annoy their families, but no. (Though apparently some stations prerecord their DJ chatter a week in advance. Those DJs can then do the nifty cocktail party trick of "predicting" what songs will come on the radio next and what they'll say.)

48 hours of solid Christmas music is a lot.

My winter coat makes decent soundproofing material in a pinch.