Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Random Rant: It's Winter. It's Going To Snow. Simmer Down.


I'm in dire need of a social detox today. If I see or hear one more thing about the incoming potential-historic-storm, I'm going to lose my shit. It's insane. Winter Storm Jonas. Blizzard Jonas. Our local weather site doles out their own names for winter storms. This time around, it's Winter Storm Anna.

They know very little about this storm. What they do know is it's a colossal storm system that's going to pack a punch to the states south of us. There's a possibility of record breaking snowfall. Two feet. Three feet. Maybe more. In addition, factor in wind gusts of up to 80 mph. It's a dangerous storm.

Here in Connecticut, they have no idea how this storm will affect us. None. It's all speculation. What I have trouble wrapping my head around are the debates about this storm. Every single weather site is saying something different. These debates are getting nasty. People are arguing with each other about this storm.

Arguing! 

It's a winter storm. We live in New England. It doesn't matter how far we've come with technology and being able to predict the weather. I don't care if the European tracking model is agreeing with our tracking model. I don't care if 3 hours before the first snowflake falls they tell us we're going to get 8-10 inches of snow. Weather. Is. Not. An. Exact. Science. There's always a percentage of error.

Why are people arguing about this? Why are people psychoanalyzing potential tracks and jet streams and the pink areas and dark blue areas? Is it necessary to blatantly call someone a stupid asshole because they don't agree with your uneducated meteorological theory?

It never used to be this way.

In the 70's and 80's, when we had actual seasons here in New England, they didn't make a big deal about winter storms. There wasn't mass pandemonium a week before a potential storm. People weren't fighting over the last loaf of bread and gallon of milk.

Back then, they talked about it on the news for 5 minutes. The day before the storm, maybe 7 minutes. They let us know if it was going to be a little storm or big storm. If it was going to be an actual blizzard, there was a little excitement in the air. We knew what to expect with each. It wasn't rocket science.

The night of the storm, my brother and I would stand on the front porch. We lived at the bottom of Pine Hill. If cars couldn't make it up or down, we knew school would be cancelled the next day. 

While we're on the topic of no-school-because-of-a-snow-day, guess where our little asses were? Outside. Shoveling. Building snow forts. Helping our neighbors shovel their stairs and driveways. Around lunchtime we'd inhale a peanut butter and jam sandwich washed down with chocolate milk, exchange our snow-caked mittens for dry ones, and head outside until dinner.

That's how we rolled.

When the snow stopped falling and the skies cleared, that's when we knew how much snow we got. Regardless of how far off the meteorologist was, it didn't matter. Neighbors weren't calling each other stupid assholes.

There was no social media back then.

I have a genuine appreciation for meteorology and how far we've come in being able to predict dangerous storms and severe weather. There have been times when we've had to prepare for the occasional hurricane and blizzard. We have 3 kids and it's necessary for us to prepare for storms that may knock out power or keep us stuck at home for a couple of days.

However, like with most things in life, there's a flip side. This would include the constant debates, relentless keyboard warriors, bickering, name calling, posts, photos, charts, etc.

Enough already!

It's going to snow on Saturday. The roads will probably suck. You might want to pick up a few groceries a day or two before. Make sure the snow blower works and there's gas in it. Same with your vehicle and generator. Buy a bottle of wine. Or rum. Or vodka. Cancel whatever plans you may have that involves being out on the road.

Sit. Relax. Enjoy. Hunker down.

When the snow stops falling and the skies clear, grab your yard stick and go measure.

That's how much snow.








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