Voilà moi, self-portrait whilst shoveling per request.
Please note the bundled status, the shovel piled high with snow, the drifts to the left and right of Yours Truly.
Posted this on FB and noted that this is in sooth not an astronaut being chased by a crescent moon, but YT being chased by a cold front.

The last three days or so have been all Middling City blizzard action and the subsequent, requisite shoveling.
City plows do their gig and deposit pounds and feet of icy melty business.
Yesterday Kennedy and I dug out my drive while a plow came and we, helplessly, got buried as they rolled along.
Kennedy, as is his nature, gave the last of the two plows a gloved finger.

We here in the MC need fluff-related gear.
So, to conclude today's snow-related thoughts, sped off (figuratively) to the nearest big box to buy the best shovel offering.
They had a palette full of crappy shovels, and two priced just over $20.
One with a pathetic blade, the other with a respectable one.

More holiday gatherings tonight, tomorrow, and the next, and the next.
And then Boxing Day.
A day to reflect upon pugilism and all that that encompasses.

Shovelfuls of Love.