Life goes on for me and Cranky, but last night, two people died in Marin County because of a freak snowstorm. There was a 28-car pile-up just north of the tunnel that burrows through the earth on Highway 101, right after you cross the Golden Gate Bridge.
It's a twisty, scary, downhill stretch of mountain highway. I used to hate driving it on my way home from work — competetive, macho speedsters; oblivious, cell-phone using hucksters; floaty, make-up applying dingbats; anxious, stressed-out, over-commuting, underemployed mensches.
This accident involved none of those stereotypes, per se, as far as I know. It happened in the wee hours, and surely the slick coating of unexpected snow (we don't get snow in Marin County!) was to blame. Maybe alcohol. Certainly the dark night.
Cranky first learned about the accident at Starbucks this morning. He bumped into a former fellow elbow-bender, an Irish guy, from our "pub" (oh, to put it nicely) in the town we recently moved from. At Starbucks. (There, I've outed Cranky. And the Irish guy.)
Anyway, the old pal had been planning to drive to San Francisco this morning to watch some rugby, and was turned away because the freeway was still closed.
Man, I'm really hating this winter.
The picture is of a camellia, upside-down, that dropped off the tree today.
They seem to drop off at the prime of their life.