Wet Christmas

The predicted light snow did not happen. It's not cold enough. From the look of the nearby mountains, the snow level appears to have been around 300 meters above us. Here on the floor of the valley (really a section of the bed of prehistoric Lake Lahontan) in which Fernley sits, we had rain. Quite a lot of it by local standards, in fact. And because there's very little drainage here, it pools up where it can find low spots.

( Lake Imerys Returns )

The rain trailed off this morning, and inasmuch as Lisa says we're not having this year's Christmas Duck until pretty late this evening, I had breakfast at the Wigwam. I expressed my gratitude to the staff working the holiday there, of course.

A postscript to last night's Christmas Eve emergency services story: Ironically, about an hour later, there was a real search-and-rescue call for what sounded like someone who had driven out a road and got stuck where the pavement ended, but was no longer with their vehicle. I went to bed before hearing whether they found the lost person.

Have Yourself a Merry Shinto Christmas

This evening, before our traditional duck dinner, Lisa and I opened our Christmas presents.

( Tree in Training )

I got Lisa some new tights, and she gave me a new leather holster for my mobile phone. She made the holster herself, and it's very nice and feels more secure (and thus less lightly to let my phone go shooting out the way it did more than once during the Iceland trip) than the one I previously had.