Weather or not!

Thanks to all who played my first line game. That was fun.

I'd rather be sweating than freezing.
I'd rather have snow than sleet.
I'd rather be kicking my shoes off than
kicking snow off the boots on my feet.

The news stations are bombarding us with dire predictions of varying amounts of snow 3-24 inches and ice 1/4 - 1 inch. The governor has declared a state of emergency. Schools and businesses are shuttered, and the National Guard has been called in.

The media blitz began yesterday and has been non-stop, "Ice can snap branches, take down trees, electric lines, and this amount of snow can collapse roofs. We are expecting major power outages. Do not call 911 unless it is a true emergency. Be prepared to hunker down in your car if you get stranded, as emergency vehicles may not be able to respond in blizzard conditions."

I thought about preparedness. I used every appliance in the house while we still have electricity. Laundry is finished, dishes are clean. TV is still blaring catastrophic conditions which have not materialized YET in our area. We do have a thin coating of sleet on the driveway. I toasted half of a cinnamon raisin bagel, opened the fridge and found the strawberry cream cheese, I perked a pot of coffee and dunked a handful of mini Oreos, and flipped on the computer. So, this is how it's going to be until all that moisture blends and the winds start blowing and the white apocalypse arrives. Stay warm everybody.

Please let me know what the weather is like where you are. I welcome those sunny, high temp reports. I can live vicariously through y'all down south, far south, not just those of you who live in Arnold.

When I was 20 years old living in rural Alaska, a neighbor (brilliant engineer)
decided to dig a hole under his trailer to insert a heating stove to warm the floor. The temperature plummeted to minus fifty and before he could dig the circumference big enough to fit a stove through, every line in the trailer court froze: diesel heating fuel, propane cooking fuel, water lines. No plumbing and pregnant. The nearest bathroom a quarter mile away at a honky-tonk road house. I hand-washed and wrung my ex's heavy green woolen shirts and pants which froze stiff. We piled under blankets with two dogs for two days until another neighbor swiped a big commercial heating blast furnace from the army, and invited us to stay with him and his pregnant wife. That heater shot out flames like a fire breathing dragon. Those were the days, no money, no sense, no kidding.
That was then; this is now. I am prepared. How about you?