Why write fiction, when I can turn on Al Roker, or the Weather Channel or even our local lovable weather people (my faves are Kevin Mannix and Joe Cupo) and learn that the storm that might prevent my having my morning cup o’ joe has a fancy new name?
I’m holed up in Waterville, which for any of you who haven’t heard of Colby College, is never on the weather map and sits between Augusta and Bangor in central Maine. We are slated to get 18 to 24 inches of snow, but don’t hold ’em to it. I don’t.
My husband is in Italy, and thankfully (hi honey!) isn’t in the warm and sunny Italy. He’s teaching 17 Colby students in Verona, which is north enough to be cold and mostly wet, bone-chilling wet.
You see, the positive thinking, law of attraction Buddhist sitting cross-legged as she writes this, just can’t STAND another winter in Maine. Oh, I know…I do the same sort of daily denial: “Oh, I’m a life-long New Englander (I am, back to the 1600’s…I can prove it). I have lived through so many storms I can’t count them (I can — that’s the Irish in me — we hold grudges for a longgggg time. I can prove that too.) I can fend for myself, and the dog and the cat, who just went to the vet this morning and got 2 shots, flea meds and now weighs in at 15 pounds.
The lure is a daughter who lives in Charleston, South Carolina, where people are still surfing and even in February, which is when I’m flying down there whether there is another blizzard on the radar or not, could be 60’s and 70’s and SUNNY. Sigh.
So I’ll check in tomorrow, after the white stuff starts flying, with another attitude report. I’m sure, everything will be okay. As Stephen Cope says, “Everything is already okay.” Fingers crossed!