Happy Birthday, John!
We got all dressed up and went to The Pine Club for dinner and ate buttery, melt-in-your-mouth, steaks and drank some
We have gotten more snow (it is coming down in big, fat flakes which I am watching through my home office window as I type) and the grass is now almost completely obscured, though the roads remain mostly dry. There is some ice, but not much. Pretty tame according to the standards of someone who grew up in the Cleveland snowbelt, and then went on to live in upstate New York and Michigan. Still, I have lived down here in SW Ohio long enough to be pleasantly surprised by seasonally appropriate weather.
Snow is nature’s way of rewarding you for the winter cold.
I don’t think that many people down here would agree with me, though. Certainly not the people I encountered on the way to yoga yesterday morning, who were so freaked out by the white stuff falling out of the sky that they could barely manage to do 30 mph on a 4 lane, 45 mph road. Certainly not the road crews, who were already out spewing salt into the roads. (Seriously guys? The snow is not even sticking to the roads yet. But go ahead and waste the salt now, so that when February hits us with a real blizzard, you are all out of salt and money to clear the roads. Really, go ahead. That strategy ensures Level 1 Snow Emergencies and Snow Days.) Certainly not my snowbird neighbors, who seem to have packed up and flown south for the winter.
“Weather experts” have been saying for the past several months that because the area had a hotter and dryer then usual summer, we were certain to have a colder and snowier (not really sure how that one works, but okay) winter. It looks like they might be right. I hope that they are right. I badly want to have a true white Christmas. (Two years ago it was gorgeous, and sunny, and in the 50s on Christmas, which is not the type of Christmas weather that I appreciate.)
In today’s edition of “its a small world”, not only does my yoga instructor go to the same cardiologist that I do, but we share a diagnosis. And two of the other women who are regulars in my class are the wives of co-workers.