No, it's snot

As a child, my brothers and I could reliably drive our mother over the edge of sanity in record time by getting into the noitsnot verbal altercation.  Running those words together resulted in the imagery of snot, a disgusting, slippery and illness inducing fluid.

This winter tho, the snot had taken on a new meaning. Heavily influenced by the arguments of my youth, the newest definition of snot is used when a disappointing snowfall emerges.

Having grown up in the north, I am used to actual snowfalls with accumulations of typically 3 to 4 inches in a night. Over the course of a week or so, enough snow would fall that sledding parties spontaneously developed, seeing people cross-country ski to work or for exercise was not uncommon, and teens looked forward to learning how to drive in vacant parking lots (tho, their parents - not so much). 

This winter has been an odd mixture of hot and cold, primarily dry and snowfall has been largely absent. 

As JB and BW point out, though, we have had a few snowfalls. To them I pointed out no, it's not; it didn't stick around thru the morning, so it doesn't really count.

"I think you are right Mama."

"How so?"

"Well, it's not like snow, that crunches under our feet and feels comfortable to walk on.  It IS more like snot. It's slippery, it makes you sick when you fall down and you get hurt, and you just don't like seeing it."

So, now when we have a disappointing snowfall, where we KNOW that the walks and roads are going to be covered with the thinnest, slickest layer of ice, it's a 'snot storm'.

Oh, the original term still applies. I can't think of a single person who hasn't seen a teeny-tiny with a sad little runny nose that hasn't cringed. 

But in our little corner of River City, when the flakes begin to fall from the night sky, you can bet that you'll hear one of us wistfully voice "I hope it's not a snot storm."