Hurricane Blizzard

I'm sitting here huddled inside against the cold. Of course it's nothing like they're having in the NE right now, but hey. It's all relative.

Watching the weather news on cable TV, I see how this nor'easter formed an eye, just like a hurricane. The wind gusts are approaching hurricane force, too.

Hope LMA's ok. This may be her first experience with serious snow - if Washington, DC gets it hard, anyway. New York, Boston, they're getting eaten alive.

Don't think I don't know snow. After living in sunny Southern California until age seven, I finished growing up in the Far North Suburbs of Chicagoland. I was there during the three record-breaking winters at the end of the 1970's. In fact, one of those winters, I spent most of my working time outside. I could tell you snow and ice and way-below-zero cold stories all day and all night and not run out.

I really, really, really hate that stuff. Those people have my heart, today.

What we're having here is bad enough. It's in the 50's. Sure, I still feel it. Worse, in some ways. Between the cold air pouring in the imperfect seals and the hurricane-broken windows, and the hideously expensive HVAC heat, it's zonking me out.

Maybe it's some sort of cold-weather flashback.

Some of those people would probably be traumatized by a hurricane. Since I love hurricanes, that's hard for me to understand. (I mean, leaving out death and destruction horrors like Katrina killing New Orleans.)

An old friend, JP, sometimes tells me, Yeah, but all that cold and snow made you tough, didn't it?

Nope. I already was tough. Still am. The cold didn't do that for me. It only made me run away to somewhere warm, like any sensible person would do.

And I'll do the sensible thing now, too: shut off the budget-eating HVAC, curl up in my nice warm bed, and take a nap with my cat.

'nite, all
.