Weathermen Lie
I knew I had to get my mom out of her house for some shopping. After a week of hibernating through the snow and the ice, she surely had to be going stir crazy. We usually do our weekly shopping on Friday, but I decided to wait until the weekend this time. I hate the crowds on weekends, but the temperatures looked better. As in mid twenties looked better than mid teens. But then there was the matter of snow. The weather forecasts called for warmer (27degrees) but snowy on Saturday and lower twenties with the chance of an additional coating of snow on Sunday.
I chose Sunday. Silly me, listening to the weathermen.
Saturday was gorgeous. Some sun. A few light flakes floating on the air currents. No accumulation whatsoever.
Sunday dawned bitter. By now my cupboards were bare and I didn’t have the luxury of putting off the shopping trip any longer. My husband shoveled Mom’s driveway and I spread salt on the icy patches. I bustled Mom into my snow-tire-equipped car and headed for town. A mile from home we hit a white-out. Snow blanketed the road. Visibility? Hey, who needs to see? I toyed with the idea of turning around. After all, I did still have plenty of cat food in the cabinet, so Sammie would let me back in the door empty handed. But the thought of empty stores with all the usual hordes frightened into staying home prodded me onward. Within minutes, the sun came out and the roads were wet and free of the white stuff.
Apparently the weather did NOT scare the crowds away. Well, maybe it scared a few folks…we succeeded in nabbing a handicapped spot so I didn’t have to dump Mom at the door and go parking-space hunting. But inside, the store was packed with weekend shoppers, as usual.
The next white-out hit as we were carting our purchases out of Wal-Mart. By the time I loaded Mom and our stuff into the car, I had the “coating” of snow the weathermen had predicted inside my trunk. For the second time that day, I had to scrape my windows.
I made it in and out of Giant Eagle between blizzards. The sun actually shone on me.
“This is March weather,” my mom proclaimed.
I didn’t mention the falling temperatures and rising winds that felt decidedly UN-like March.
We drove through another squall on the way home, but survived the trip unscathed. I unloaded the groceries in sunshine. The next mini-blizzard held off until I was snug back in my house.
Mom is content to hibernate for another week. Until this stock of groceries runs out. I think the bitter temperatures and wind and snow have made my cold worse. Don’t tell Mom. She’ll squawk at me about wearing a hat or gloves or something. (I had ear muffs and a big hood. And I DID have my gloves on) Anyhow, I’m happy to stay home today and write. I have food and beverages. And cold medicine. I’m good.
I chose Sunday. Silly me, listening to the weathermen.
Saturday was gorgeous. Some sun. A few light flakes floating on the air currents. No accumulation whatsoever.
Sunday dawned bitter. By now my cupboards were bare and I didn’t have the luxury of putting off the shopping trip any longer. My husband shoveled Mom’s driveway and I spread salt on the icy patches. I bustled Mom into my snow-tire-equipped car and headed for town. A mile from home we hit a white-out. Snow blanketed the road. Visibility? Hey, who needs to see? I toyed with the idea of turning around. After all, I did still have plenty of cat food in the cabinet, so Sammie would let me back in the door empty handed. But the thought of empty stores with all the usual hordes frightened into staying home prodded me onward. Within minutes, the sun came out and the roads were wet and free of the white stuff.
Apparently the weather did NOT scare the crowds away. Well, maybe it scared a few folks…we succeeded in nabbing a handicapped spot so I didn’t have to dump Mom at the door and go parking-space hunting. But inside, the store was packed with weekend shoppers, as usual.
The next white-out hit as we were carting our purchases out of Wal-Mart. By the time I loaded Mom and our stuff into the car, I had the “coating” of snow the weathermen had predicted inside my trunk. For the second time that day, I had to scrape my windows.
I made it in and out of Giant Eagle between blizzards. The sun actually shone on me.
“This is March weather,” my mom proclaimed.
I didn’t mention the falling temperatures and rising winds that felt decidedly UN-like March.
We drove through another squall on the way home, but survived the trip unscathed. I unloaded the groceries in sunshine. The next mini-blizzard held off until I was snug back in my house.
Mom is content to hibernate for another week. Until this stock of groceries runs out. I think the bitter temperatures and wind and snow have made my cold worse. Don’t tell Mom. She’ll squawk at me about wearing a hat or gloves or something. (I had ear muffs and a big hood. And I DID have my gloves on) Anyhow, I’m happy to stay home today and write. I have food and beverages. And cold medicine. I’m good.
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