Reality weather

A winter storm is brewing, again, and we all know what that means. Weather forecasters will prove that they don't have enough sense to come in out of it.

That probably isn't fair. They may very well know, but they probably have bosses who think it lends a touch of reality to send their weather reporters out in freezing rain, knee-deep snow, torrential rain, and blowing winds to tell TV viewers to stay inside because it's really bad out there.

We've all seen them, on the cable Weather Channel and on local news. Before dawn even cracks, they're out there in an empty parking lot scruffing their feet around chortling, "Look at how deep this ice is! It's really slippery."

Or they're leaning into the wind, holding on for dear life, describing how Hurricane Gidget is really tearing roofs off houses, and for Pete's sake, get out of town!

My personal favorite is the film crew that drives around while snow and ice are building up and the road crews aren't even out yet, the camera guy is filming the windshield wipers going back and forth and the reporter narrating "It's gosh-awful out here; better stay off the roads."


Some weather forecast events I'd like to see —

An 80-degree day, blue skies, balmy breezes, weather guy slugging down a glass of iced tea, saying, "It's a gorgeous day out here. Too bad you're stuck at work and my job is to be out here rubbing it in your face."

Early spring. Weather crew is standing in a freshly-mowed field; pollen flying; bees buzzing. Weather guy swatting at bees with one hand, holding the mic and an injection pen with the other, wiping his nose on his sleeve and sneezing. "It's allergy season, folks," he croaks. "Crank up the air conditioners."

Wintry mix falling, accumulating. Weather guy on a parking lot. "It's really coming down, freezing rain mixed with sleet. Let me show you what the parking lot looks like here.' Takes a step, and THUD! Followed by "(Expletive), let me inside, dammit! It's not fit out here for man, beast or studio executive."

Now that would be reality TV at its best.

Winter fantasies

Snow is piled up almost to the top of my foot, and it's colder than a well-digger's back pocket. On days like this, rather than slip my way to work I'd rather stay home and — focus on food.

I imagine hot pots of homemade soup simmering on the stove. I fantasize about warm cornbread out of the oven. I dream of chili, hot and spicy. Warm cookies. Steaming pans of brownies. ....Ooooh!

Ahem. Excuse me. Got a little carried a way there.

The actual work that goes into preparing all those things doesn't occur to me. Cleanup gets pushed out of my mind. Slogging my way through snow and cold to take bags of trash to the Dumpster doesn't even enter the picture.

I dream of snuggling down with warm comfort food, and all my cares melt like the accumulated frozen sludge on the bottom of my car.

Maybe if one day I actually did make hot soup, and warm cornbread, and brownies on a cold snowy day I would either 1) be satisfied to have carried out a longing desire or 2) realized that my cold-day fantasy is a lot like Christmas memories -- all the reality and disappointment are edited out.

My money's on number 2. I've experienced too many times of finding out Prince Charming is really a toad.

Maybe it's the fantasy that keeps me warm on cold days, because in my dream world, I don't see myself chopping vegetable and scrubbing dirty utensils. Just inhaling the aroma and enjoying the flavors and warmth. In my fantasy I scarf down the entire pan of brownies and don't gain weight. And my cornbread never crumbles either.

Maybe the snow will melt soon and it'll warm up and I can go back to fantasizing about Harrison Ford ditching that scrawny Callista Flockhart and coming over to revel in making me some hot soup and cornbread.