We never should have used the words "snowed in" those few days ago. Sure, the snow was pretty, and yes, it required shoveling, and not just the usual wait-for-the-sun-to-melt-it-technique but real true shoveling, but by using those particular words "snowed in" we jinxed ourselves and this morning we woke up to a winter onslaught of snow and ice that left us with over 1 foot of new snow to shovel after lunch. 
Really, this isn't a problem for us–we love snow, and hope this means we will be blessed with the coveted white Christmas–but today we really were snowed in; the plow visited our neighborhood several times before the snow stopped around one o'clock, but he didn't plow out our little cul-de-sac, and the foot plus of snow combined with the throw from the plow made our off-shoot impassable in the true meaning of the word. But no worries; we had dinner supplies and plenty to do, especially with the fun that the snow itself supplies. Shoveling took nearly two hours, the majority of which, I'm sure, was devoted to throwing snow balls, sledding the driveway, and climbing snow mountains. Oh, and shoveling the lawn so our seven pound dachshund can make it out to potty.
