I am awaiting that big rainstorm that was forecast to hit Hillmomba at noon today, and pour half an inch of precipitation on our fine nation. I am waiting.
The winds are here. But not the rain. What's up with that? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me four hundred and thirty-seven times, shame on me. If we could just leave the weather forecast off the news, there would be more time for touching human-interest stories like that golden eagle snatching a baby from a park in Montreal. What's that? The video of the baby-napping fowl was false? SO ARE THE WEATHER FORECASTS!
The weather is going to take a turn for the frigid tomorrow. ALLEGEDLY! So tonight I am whipping up a pot roast. Okay, it's not exactly traditional Yankee Pot Roast. I'm no Yankee. And there's no actual pot. But it has carrots, potatoes, and onions! And roast! So, technically, it's Hillbilly Roasting Pan Roast.
I wouldn't want to mislead anybody. LIKE A TV METEOROLOGIST!
4 comments:
Yes, those TV meterologists are weavers of fiction.
I hear that we're right "on the line" when it comes to the wintery mix later this week.
We'd better be on the correct side of that we-need-some-friggin'-snow line.
Yeah, I'm wondering about this alleged winter storm that is coming Thursday. There is already a winter storm watch! I'll believe it when I see the snow fly.
Whether or not it snows or rains, is hot or cold ..... well that's the weather.
I always think of a recipe as a suggestion of what to do with the ingredients. Sort of like a forecast being just a suggestion of what may, or may not happen.
Sioux,
Funny how they already know that when the storm has not even formed off the coast yet.
I know they use weather data and a computer algorithm to predict this storm based on cumulative data from when they first started collecting their database.
But remember, the excuse when they miss one is: "Well, it was a southern storm, and you know how unpredictable they are."
This is a southern storm.
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Chick,
I agree. Too many mornings, I've hopped out of bed, torn open the shutters and thrown up the sash, and seen the moon on the breast of the unfallen snow give the luster of midnight to objects below.
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Kathy,
You should have your own little window, or half door, and make yourself a fancy wooden sign with your name on it. Something like "Kathy's Forekasting Korner." Then every morning, you could stick your head out and holler the weather to your campers.
Don't expect to be paid as well as the meteorologists with their college degrees in guessing, and their million-dollar machines.
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