Are we facing Snowpocalypse this weekend? Rest assured, your blogiste is ready. Ok, sorta ready, since I’m working on my book I have to rely on husband, Phil-the-housemate and children to move a buttload of wood inside, and we do have to pick up more baby formula, but otherwise, we’re ready to hunker down here and toast marshmallows while the world undergoes…what exactly?
Current forecasts place the total amount somewhere between 2.6 and 29.3 inches.
Such is the maddening, exhilarating unpredictability of weather patterns on this rock-and-lava spinning blueberry we call home.
…The third model, the RPM (Rapid Precision Mesoscale), is calling for a staggering amount of snow: almost thirty inches in New York City. If this turns out to be correct, society as we know it will crumble. The wealthiest members—those who can afford to eat out every night—will starve in their stairwells, while those capable of whipping up a Thanksgiving feast from a few packets of Ramen, some sriracha, and a cat that died of “natural causes” will emerge as chieftains; perhaps even gods.
Nyah nyah, I have six cats, and three of them are really old. I’m going to live through this one, baby! Unless, of course, the cats are conspiring with the dog to take us out and survive by devouring the household humans, which is also possible. (Rubeus, pretending to be asleep on my lap gives a one eyed “who, us?” thing when I pet him, but I’m not fooled.)
More seriously, the good news about being prepared all the time is that you can go back to your book and forget about the uncertainty. Moreover, homemade quince paste, goat cheese and peasant bread are way yummier than elderly cat.