I've been avoiding what seems to have become the weekly weather rant because 1) I've been too busy digging out of the snow drifts and 2) Whining about the weather seems so petty considering the seriousness of my recent posts.
Nevertheless, the bitch-and-moan fest is about to begin. Brace yourselves.
On Sunday, I went to a play at the university. Walked in on clear, dry sidewalks. Came out of the theatre for intermission, 1.5 hours later, to find a blizzard. And three fresh inches of snow. When I left the theatre at the end of the play, I cleared about 4 inches off my car and slid my way to the other side of town for a Super Bowl party.
By halftime, when the snow had finally let up, we drove home with our breaths held and fingers crossed, on virtually unplowed streets. Eight inches, people. Eight inches...seven of which were not predicted.
We grumbled. We shook our heads in disbelief. We scoured the Web, trying to find any trace of a prediction for the storm that had smacked us around. All I found was the email alerting me to the winter storm warning that had been issued only after the first few inches had fallen.
But that's not all folks. Yesterday morning, we woke up to a thunderstorm. Funny thing about a thunderstorm in the middle of winter, when it's thundering and lightning and pouring buckets of rain -- all at a temperature below 32 degrees. By yesterday afternoon, it was 40, everything was melting, clogging the sewer drains, and flash flooding the downtown streets. Then the dense fog settled in. Did anyone see any of that coming? Certainly not the weather guys on TV. Channel 9's weather guy is named Joe WINTERS. If that tells you anything.
That brings us to today, and our winter storm warning that goes into effect at noon. This time, everyone is predicting thunderstorms of snow, at the rate of several inches an hour. We're right in the heaviest band of predicted snow. A foot or more, they say. Believe us, they say. This one's going to be a doozy, they say. Trust us, they say. Would we steer you wrong? they ask incredulously.
They steer us like a rear-wheel-drive Mazda RX8 on a frozen pond.
So we'll see. When they don't know it's coming, it hits us hard. When they warn us for days in advance, we get nothing. That's the lesson I've learned time and again in my 36 years.
We shrug it off, ignore the scroll at the bottom of the TV screen, and try to laugh about it. Tim has declared that if he were a super hero, his name would be Thundersnow. Pixar, we're inspired...
Nevertheless, the bitch-and-moan fest is about to begin. Brace yourselves.
On Sunday, I went to a play at the university. Walked in on clear, dry sidewalks. Came out of the theatre for intermission, 1.5 hours later, to find a blizzard. And three fresh inches of snow. When I left the theatre at the end of the play, I cleared about 4 inches off my car and slid my way to the other side of town for a Super Bowl party.
By halftime, when the snow had finally let up, we drove home with our breaths held and fingers crossed, on virtually unplowed streets. Eight inches, people. Eight inches...seven of which were not predicted.
We grumbled. We shook our heads in disbelief. We scoured the Web, trying to find any trace of a prediction for the storm that had smacked us around. All I found was the email alerting me to the winter storm warning that had been issued only after the first few inches had fallen.
But that's not all folks. Yesterday morning, we woke up to a thunderstorm. Funny thing about a thunderstorm in the middle of winter, when it's thundering and lightning and pouring buckets of rain -- all at a temperature below 32 degrees. By yesterday afternoon, it was 40, everything was melting, clogging the sewer drains, and flash flooding the downtown streets. Then the dense fog settled in. Did anyone see any of that coming? Certainly not the weather guys on TV. Channel 9's weather guy is named Joe WINTERS. If that tells you anything.
That brings us to today, and our winter storm warning that goes into effect at noon. This time, everyone is predicting thunderstorms of snow, at the rate of several inches an hour. We're right in the heaviest band of predicted snow. A foot or more, they say. Believe us, they say. This one's going to be a doozy, they say. Trust us, they say. Would we steer you wrong? they ask incredulously.
They steer us like a rear-wheel-drive Mazda RX8 on a frozen pond.
So we'll see. When they don't know it's coming, it hits us hard. When they warn us for days in advance, we get nothing. That's the lesson I've learned time and again in my 36 years.
We shrug it off, ignore the scroll at the bottom of the TV screen, and try to laugh about it. Tim has declared that if he were a super hero, his name would be Thundersnow. Pixar, we're inspired...
Comments
Speaking of Pixar did you SEE the new preview for Wall-E? It looks so cute!
Suck it up you big baby! pbbbt!
**GRIN**
I'm loving it!