Yesterday's weather reports were apocalyptic. Six to ten (or more!) inches of snow predicted. The local weatherman offered up three weather models that he must have pulled out of his ass. All three models predicted at least 8 inches of snow, AND, he said with a very hungry look in his eye, the most likely model will be the 9-11 inches. He followed that proclamation with raised eyebrows and a twisted puckered mouth--an expression reminiscent of Dana Carvey's "The Church Lady".
So yesterday afternoon as I was driving home from work, my gas gauge light blinked on. Damn. Five deep at the pumps. Damn, damn.
Let me just say that I have never, EVER succumbed to the impending blizzard grocery shopping mania. But as I was sitting in line for gas, it occurred to me that I could be missing out on something that so many other people seem to engage in. I could see the grocery store parking lot from where I sat idling in the gas line. The lot was packed. Suddenly, I decided that I absolutely HAD to have the ingredients to make French Toast: milk, eggs, bread.
The parking lot wasn't just packed. It was completely full. Vulturous SUVs and minivans wove in and out of the lanes. I got lucky in my small car. I found a spot that no minivan could fit into between two parking-morons. As I locked my car door, the first flakes were beginning to fall.
It wasn't too bad in the grocery...until the check-out. I thought five deep at the gas station was bad. I got to know the lady in line behind me quite well, actually.
In the twenty-five minutes between locking my car door and opening the trunk to put groceries in, about a quarter of an inch of snow had fallen.
An hour later--nothing. For hours--nothing. I went to bed, scoffing at the idea of "weather models".
This morning, we have about four inches of snow. It'll be gone by Monday, but for now, I celebrate what we have. See, I love snow. I love walking in it, and I really don't mind shoveling it. But don't (damnit!) tell me that we are going to have 10 inches of snow if we're getting only five. I've heard that promise before!
And here I sit at my office computer, blogging. Why? I don't want to touch those compositions I have to grade. I want to think about being outside while the snow is still falling gently. A few minutes ago, I opened a bottle of Dasani water. I held it in the light and watched the teeny bubbles rise to the top. They looked, at first, like snowflakes rising instead of falling. Then I moved bottle so that I was looking through a ripple in the plastic. The snowflakes looked like WWII airplanes spiraling upward. Then the airplanes turned into souls with their arms outstretched.
That is what snow does to me.