Monster Storm. They've been calling it a monster storm all week. Pictures on the news of snow blowing sideways and enormous traffic snarls. Awful. A mess of snow, sleet and rain coming our way. Customers were rolling into the store the day before for what I call "comfort food pans"-- muffin tins, braising pans, casserole dishes. Everyone was going to ride it out with something delicious and warming. Sounds like a plan, except for one thing. It didn't happen. Not here near Philly.
Wednesday came and went, and except for it being miserably cold, windy and drizzly, the arrival of the Monster Storm was a bust. Charlene and I were working the late shift, and we were dreading our respective trips home. We left a bit after 9 PM, which was when the worst was supposed to hit, and except for a half dozen wet flakes, it was pretty much dry all the way home. If the weather people can only tell you accurately about the weather as it happens, what's the point?
I am often accused of believing in too many conspiracy theories, but just maybe the supermarkets and gas stations pay for weather hoopla to get the public in for extra vittles and gas? Just sayin', since the markets are mobbed every time the "snow" word is used. My rebuilt wrist, which is loaded with titanium screws and plates, is a far more accurate predictor of weather than my local TV meteorologists.
These inaccurate weather reports really tick me off for other reasons, too. As both a cook and a gardener, I really depend on some degree of accuracy. Hard to plan an outdoor meal, or make French macarons if the weather is wet, and it's just as bad when you have a load of mushroom soil delivered on what is supposed to be a dry day and you watch it run down the driveway in a torrent. They have hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of equipment and satellites to supply information. Can't they do better than my Yankee Weather Rock?
Somehow, I don't think so.