OK, it has happened. What of it?
"So?" I ask with the attitude of a sulky, sullen teenager. There will be no polls or pithy queries about this one, for I am merely despondent and disenchanted... my heart yearns for the certitude of those facts espoused by such as should know better.
What, you ask, has stirred such a blase' attitude in this writer? And for goodness sake, who does she think gave her the authority to sling such big, misspelled words about with so little passion or regard for accuracy? I will tell you.
For the past 3 days, the charming and attractive weather guys and gals on all of the local news stations have been talking about the Amazing Snow that we are going to experience together in the Great Northern state of Minnesota - like a big frozen love-in. "It's coming! And it's coming this Saturday. Now, we can't really predict when and how much, but we think that we are looking at 6 to 8 inches of that gorgeous, fluffy, white stuff." Even that big, round, chocolate lump of love on The Today Show chimed in with his big toothy grin - "It's gonna be a big one for the folks in that neck of the woods."
Like the flibertyjibit that I truly am, I believed them. I looked into the eyes of these well style weather professionals, and I trusted what they said to be the truth. I locked onto the words "gorgeous and fluffy" and stayed there, blissful in the promise of a Hallmark weekend.
And then, like a child awaiting Christmas, I counted the days.
Thursday - no snow. But that's OK. The cute guy in front of the blue screen on Chanel Five said it was coming. So I took a deep breath and continued my vigil.
Friday - no snow. I checked the calendar. Of course there wouldn't be any snow today. That sassy Belinda at Chanel 11 said "Saturday." I drank a glass of wine to help calm the nervous anticipation.
Lots of gorgeous, fluffy white stuff means plows and salt and slow driving and digging out and...
sledding and snow forts and hot chocolate and laughing and skating at the Depot and...
sore backs and bad driving and shoveling the side walk and salting the side walk and boots and mittens and...
cute new boots and hand made mittens and...
You can clearly understand why a glass of Marietta Old Vine Red was consumed for purely medicinal reasons. The second glass, well, that was for fun!
So today is Saturday.
Like a child looking for Santa, I hopped out of bed full of anticipation and curiosity. Today is the day. Today is the day. I struggled to wrap myself in my red knit robe while shoving my ice cold feet into my warm, woolly slippers. I hop/scuffled to the window, threw back the heavy, room darkening velvet curtain sending up a swirl of dust and dog hair and I gazed my first upon a field of Saturday's Promised...
Wait one stinking minute! This is not what those good looking, well groomed people had promised me. This is not "gorgeous" nor is it "fluffy." This is a hard, driving ice/snow. It tings against the glass of my original-to-the-house glass windows (Translation: these old panes could be shattered under the battery of relentless ice pellets) Those big, fat liars - weather guys are cute, but they can't be trusted. I'd learned my lesson.
Swathed in disappointment, I slunk back to bed. I didn't bother to remove my robe or slippers, I just shoved my wool wrapped body back into the flannel sheets of warmth and disbelief. I quickly became entangled in competing fabrics, so I stayed there another hour or so, until one of The Littles flung herself on top of me, bouncing out her excitement in a sort of toddler morse code - It's snowing! It's snowing! Dot dot dash! Dot dot dash!
Luckily, her bouncing released the flannel from the wool and set me free. After a quick trip to the window with the littlest Little, I realized her joy and together we bounced on the Daddyman. Dot dot dash! It's snowing! Dot dot dash.
"Let's get the sleds out."
"Can I have hot cocoa for breakfast?"
"Is it snowing on the other side of the house, too?"
"What time IS it?"
So, it is snowing. It's neither gorgeous nor fluffy, but it is "That white stuff" and that has to count for something. The weather folks get a B- for todays weather. Perhaps we'll venture out into this truly blinding ice/snow storm to play some winter games. Or, if mama gets her way, we'll gather 'round the family table and play board games whilst sipping tepid cocoa. Then we'll play that age old family favorite called "Let's put shrinking plastic up on the rest of the original-to-the-house-windows to baffle the wind and muffle the dangerous sound of ice hitting glass" game.
I hope that where ever you are you are warm and happy and surrounded by the people that you love and who love you back... and that your flannel doesn't grab your wool.