While We're On The Subject of Unnecessary Comments...

Let's talk about the weather, shall we? 

Let's talk about
Winter Storm Leona. 

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Yes, I got that right. I realize that the powers- that-be over at weather central have named this storm Leon, but if you've gotten so silly as to tag every little breeze with a name, I'm going to be so silly as to rename it. I have renamed this storm Leona. 

Leon is a man's name, for goodness sake. Anybody who knows anything knows that there has been nothing whatsoever masculine about Dixie Winter 2014.  No, this winter event is most definitely a woman. 

A 50 year old woman. 

I know that because Leona is going through The Change. 

On Monday, we were in shirt sleeves for our morning walk. One of us might have  done a little sweating, too,  and griped about it.

By Tuesday afternoon, Leona had turned into an ice princess, and she's been icy ever since. There's just no talking to her, people.  Not to worry, though... By tomorrow we're getting another hot flash. Temperatures are predicted to be in the  70's and wet.

See? The Change. 

Of course, that's just what is predicted.  Menopausal winter storms are anything but predictable.  What will actually occur is subject to The Change as well.

Leona did just what she felt like doing.  She wasn't supposed to visit the Atlanta area at all.  If you listened to the weather mavens at the national level, the old gal was supposed to venture across more southern parts of the state. In fact, our little area was supposed to be in the bull's eye.  Leona was supposed to bring us a good five inches of snow.   I admit it. Folks around here were excited.

Miss Whimsy got snow. 

All we got was the cold shoulder and the icy stare.

Leona wasn't even supposed to get to Georgia until early evening, either.  Like the menopausal winter witch that she is, though, she got a little surge going. She barged in three hours early and headed wherever she jolly well pleased.

She was jolly well pleased to hit Atlanta.

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That's why the good folks there were ill-prepared. That's why some of them got stranded. They listened to the dudes who had named her Leon to begin with.

As if...

I heard a little snickering on the news about all of that. Oh, who am I kidding? I heard a lot of snickering. I heard so much snickering, in fact, that I actually changed my news channel to one that I rarely watch, one based out of Atlanta.  It just seemed to me that the folks actually living in the middle of the menopausal winter might have a better take on the situation than those living up where 95 degrees for week   is considered  such a weather emergency that it gets its own theme music for commercial breaks.

As if...

Snicker

Yeah, two can plan at this game.

I yakked a bit the other day about unnecessary commentary.  Friends,  I can't think of any commentary, veiled or otherwise, that is less necessary in the middle of a *weather event* than snide remarks made by those who aren't in the middle of it.

The simple fact is that when you are unused to a weather pattern, be it hot or cold, you are unused to it. Period. You might not have homes equipped with such things as air conditioners or closets full of such things as heavy winter coats.

Did you realize that there is more than one kind of winter coat?  Maybe not. Maybe you live in a place where a coat means a coat.  Here? Maybe not so much.

The first thing the Practical One discovered upon moving to DC was that she didn't have one. Oh, she thought she did. She had all sorts of southern coating options. They look warm enough. Down here, they even feel warm enough on the three days in January that you get to wear them   They weren't warm enough for long walks to work in DC, though.

(Another shameless excuse to show pictures of my children. 

Won't I make the most insufferable grandmother?)

But I digress...

While Snidely the Newsman was snickering at the people stranded in Atlanta on Tuesday, I wonder if he was so ignorant as to assume that they even owned a true winter coat?  I wonder if he even cared that the miles some of them were trekking were walked in the only clothing they had, that which is very appropriate for a Georgia winter.

I did.

I thought of all the people who might be trying to get home in weather conditions they could not possibly be prepared for. (Dear Mr. Snidely, exactly when did you learn to drive in the snow? Was it by any chance... in the snow? Yeah, I thought so.)

I thought of those people with their Dixie coats and driving skills, and I prayed for them.

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I imagined my precious niece, whom I love so very much, walking alone in her heeled boots and southern- styled winter coat.  I was grateful to learn that she wasn't stranded, thank God. She made the ten mile trip by vehicle in a record hour and a half.

Others didn't fare so well. Maybe they were mothers with children... or mothers trying to get to their children.  Betcha they were someone's loved one. Betcha that someone was worried about them.

So  to what purpose must we endure the snide comments during the weather events?  I can't think of a single one. That's why I use the same finger on the Snideleys that I use on the Swoopers.  Only this time, I use it to change the channel.

And that's all I have to say about that. 

So... how's your winter treating you?