It's supposed to snow again on Friday night.
Now, Hyperbole the Weather Dude is assuring us that this one? Not gonna be as bad as last week. Which is what he said last week in reference to the previous week's storm.
Are you panicking yet?
I think the technical term is "screwed."
Personally, I'm imagining 11-foot drifts, snowmen of the abominable variety, dog teams, and polar bears delivering the mail. (And then eating people who complain about their mail not showing up until after dark.) (Don't mess with the polar bears who deliver your mail.) (Yes, polar bears. What else are they going to do when the ice cap melts?)
Since we're looking another freakin' weekend housebound and snowed-in, it's time to put together another survival list, and just pray Raley's is only 75% picked-over tomorrow.
And I'm not talking about picking up cans of stuff that usually end up in the food donation box around the holidays, where one is, by the second night of staring into the pantry and saying, "Well, we've got corn." That's not going to cut it this go around. Do you hear me, Hyperbole? Not this go around!
Tonight is a time to hunker down with the Gourmet cookbook (also simply known as the yellow book) and do some serious menu planning. It's time to sketch out an elaborate weekend of cooking and eating and cleaning and cleaning and cooking and then looking at what we made and poking it and muttering about going to Slate Street. It is time to remember that a snowbound weekend is best passed with booze. Booze and DVDs. Booze and DVDs we haven't seen forty-nine million times. And cold remedies. Adam still has the sniffles.
Anyone know of a grocery store in town still stocked with eggs?
Now, Hyperbole the Weather Dude is assuring us that this one? Not gonna be as bad as last week. Which is what he said last week in reference to the previous week's storm.
Are you panicking yet?
I think the technical term is "screwed."
Personally, I'm imagining 11-foot drifts, snowmen of the abominable variety, dog teams, and polar bears delivering the mail. (And then eating people who complain about their mail not showing up until after dark.) (Don't mess with the polar bears who deliver your mail.) (Yes, polar bears. What else are they going to do when the ice cap melts?)
Since we're looking another freakin' weekend housebound and snowed-in, it's time to put together another survival list, and just pray Raley's is only 75% picked-over tomorrow.
And I'm not talking about picking up cans of stuff that usually end up in the food donation box around the holidays, where one is, by the second night of staring into the pantry and saying, "Well, we've got corn." That's not going to cut it this go around. Do you hear me, Hyperbole? Not this go around!
Tonight is a time to hunker down with the Gourmet cookbook (also simply known as the yellow book) and do some serious menu planning. It's time to sketch out an elaborate weekend of cooking and eating and cleaning and cleaning and cooking and then looking at what we made and poking it and muttering about going to Slate Street. It is time to remember that a snowbound weekend is best passed with booze. Booze and DVDs. Booze and DVDs we haven't seen forty-nine million times. And cold remedies. Adam still has the sniffles.
Anyone know of a grocery store in town still stocked with eggs?
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