Touche, John Belsky.

Here I am, at home. I should be at work. Should be, but it would appear Mr. Belsky was right for once...it iced and snowed and sleeted and now my driveway is one long slick crunchy sheet of snow, and our road has not been salted nor plowed at all. So here I sit, trapped on this cursed hill for today and possibly tomorrow.

Living in the country has its advantages. Those advantages disappear once winter hits. If I lived even 2 miles away, I would have been able to get to work this morning. My road is off a state road, which they have scraped, sanded, salted, and plowed so that it's nice and easy to drive. Since I live on a steep, narrow, curving nightmare of a rural road they plow it whenever they feel like getting around to it. Which is not often.

I've already e-mailed pathetic messages to my co-workers, complete with pictures of my road (because I am paranoid that they don't believe me when I tell them how bad it is, seeing as they all live in the city where the roads are well maintained). I suppose I'll try to do something productive with my day, other than watch my Fiance play Dragon Ball Z all afternoon (if I hear "we are a mighty race. don't underestimate us!" one more time from the Wii, I'm going to snap).

Damn you, John Belsky.

Our friendly local weatherman John Belsky is warning of ice and snow tonight. The predictions started last week, and have turned from one or two inches of snow to six to eight inches of ice and snow. Naturally everyone at work is in a tizzy over it. It's as though once you get past a certain age, you are only allowed to discuss 4 subjects, with the weather being main subject #1. All day long everyone speculated about how much snow, if the roads would be bad, and compared stories from snow storms past. This is Kentucky. We don't get much in the way of snow anymore. Apparently there was a bad snow storm in the 70s, which of course I was not around for, not even being alive yet. I was here for the 20 inches that fell overnight in 1994. Our power was out for 3 days. There are few things worse than being a kid faced with thigh-high snow and not being able to play in it. Especially when you originally came from Florida, where 50 degrees is considered colder than weather has any right to be.

So here I am, talking about the weather, just like everyone else. My world seems to revolve around snow and dental work.

My fiance and I went to the grocery store tonight to do our usual weekly shopping. The store was a frenzy of people buying milk (the person behind us had 5 gallons), bread, and eggs. Why is it always those three things? Do people trapped by snow live on french toast until the world thaws out again?

I am convinced that John Belsky is actually in league with the grocery stores. He gets on the news and gives dire predictions of snow and ice and doom, and people rush out to the stores and stock up like radioactive waste is going to be falling from the sky and bread and gallons of milk are their last hope of survival. Usually we don't even end up getting anything, and everyone grumbles about how he's never right, but a few weeks later he's on the news again warning about snow and people race off to the grocery store to once more empty the shelves of dairy products and baked goods.

Oh well. Such is life...and maybe Belsky will actually be right and we'll get some snow. If we do, I'll be sure to have french toast. I'm pretty sure that's what I'm supposed to do.