Mr. Snowman has started SuperPoking me. First with a beer, but now with more coarse gestures, like being toilet-papered and then pwned. Probably no coincidence with the timing. It's a sign of the changing season. The heat and press of the summer has lost its edge. First night that's felt a little chilly. Somebody says the weather forecast calls for a storm. It may be premature, but it's hard not to watch the thoughts turn to snow.Snow pilgrims everywhere, not just Mr. Snowman, are crawling in from the heat. That is the backdrop to all of this email and sms activity. What else could it be? I recognize that. Soon, the day will come when the snow pilgrims continue their journey onto the silent blank pages of Mother Nature's shoulders, clothed in virgin snow.
