Deb: Everywhere you looked, every news channel, every paper, every stranger in line at the grocery store, everyone was talking about it. It was going to be the STORM OF THE CENTURY and it was coming to our city!
Thirty centimeters of snow! That was guaranteed. Beyond that they weren’t sure, but they knew it was going to be bad. Stay off the roads! Close the schools! Batten down the hatches! So we did. People by the thousands cancelled appointments, rescheduled meetings and stocked up on food for the one day shut-in.
And then it came. Started easy, with light flurries and then ... well, then it kinda stayed easy with a few more flurries ... AND THEN ... well, I guess it kinda blew around a bit like light flurries are wont to do. And then it kinda piled on top of each other till we were held captive by six full inches of snow.
I am sure the Mayor had the army on Stand By, but instead I have no doubt that the army all went for dinner and drinks. And it would have been easy to get to any restaurant or bar, given that there was no one on the roads. We were all holed up protecting ourselves and our loved ones against the STORM OF THE CENTURY ... Century ... century.
Even the Salvation Army would have been overkill for this tiny little storm.
Honest to Pete, we had more snow than this before Christmas and no one batted an eye. But dutifully prepared, my husband and I had the shovel ready by the back door to dig a path for the dogs to get to the back of our yard to do their business, lest they be swallowed up by this tsunami of snow, this looming wall of powder.
When we opened the door the morning after the STORM OF THE CENTURY, the dogs looked at us as if to say, “Yeah, don’t bother with the shovel. We got this one.” And they ambled down the stairs with the ease of a spring day. They knew. They were embarrassed for the weather too.
And yet, it’s not the weather’s fault. It’s just doing what weather does. It’s just being weather––raining here, storming there. It’s the messengers of the weather that are responsible for this debacle. The media weather porn distributers. STOP IT. BE RESPONSIBLE. STOP IT.
I’m embarrassed for us now. Sucked in again. Oh well ... sure is pretty though.
Barbara: Sigh. I wanted a true snow day, a true “we’re stuck together” excuse for eating chips and playing games and sitting around the fire when otherwise we would be working or schooling. Sadly, I even stocked up on provisions the day before––including those supposed-to-be-guilt-free-chips-because-it’s-a-snow-day, and prepared myself for snowful abandon. Except one daughter still had school and the other had “too much homework” (blah blah blah) and my husband decided to take on those “storm ravaged roads” to find only mildly slushy coverage and no one in the way. So I ate those chips, yes I did, by MYSELF, while skyping a work day with Deb (love that skype––don’t get me started). And it’s so not a “snow day” if you’re still working, even with a beloved, even with a bowl of chips.
Storm of the century? I hardly noticed it for all the disappointed whining (mine).