Snowpocalypse 2021

We Okies recently celebrated our once-a-year snowpocalypse which is defined in my Okie dictionary as more than an inch of snow at a time. Who knew this would turn into a yearly thing? I will say, we certainly outdid ourselves in the snowpocalypse category this year. As I said, we usually get an inch or two then the next day the sun comes out and leaves us with a nice snow-free yard. Unfortunately, it is now a yard that is only fit for 'muddin' or 'mud bogging' as it's referred to by those who don't know any better.

This year, 2021 has decided to throw down the gauntlet' and outdo 2020 in the "How can I be more horrible than the previous year?" category by sticking out its tongue (if it had one) and taunting it with a clever retort of 'neener, neener'. Okay, 2021, we do not need anything worse than dealing with Covid for the entire last year. So behave.

We in the far southwest part of the state don't know how to react when we get half a foot of snow then, before it has a chance to melt and turn into one huge skating rink, we get more. We don't do well in snow/ice/rain/black ice/the threat of running out of wine and Pop-Tarts. We do, however, excel in tornado watching. That's where we Okies really shine. We grab our lawn chairs, beer or wine, and music and make a party with the neighbors. Whoever spots the funnel first wins. We haven't decided on what the prize should be since we usually spot it all at once, grab out lawn chairs and head for our individual garages where we set our lawn chairs back up, grab another beer or another glass of wine and watch from the safety of a building that could be scooped up any minute and, poof, you now live in the next county. On the bright side, we'll make new friends. Good times.

But I digress. Back to the snow.

The weatherpersons, who look like they're still in college, seem to love the limelight of the television camera. It's way better than a selfie, eh? Why else would they interrupt our programming every few minutes to tell us it could snow for 24 hours, or maybe not. It could cover our house and leave the neighbors alone, or maybe not. In addition to the weatherpersons' urgent warnings to STAY HOME or risk a disaster, the constant updates that are scrolled across our screen with all the urgency of a nuclear holocaust are enough to send me back for more wine.

In anticipation of the recent pending forecast of a foot of snow and temperatures so low our outdoor thermometer just said "Heck NO," we, being genteel Southerns, drove the speed limit to the nearest big box store, selected a parking spot no one else was vying for, moseyed inside, greeted the greeter and slowly proceeded to stock up on items we might need for a day or two while smiling politely at all the other people who are doing the same thing. And if you believe any of that malarky, I've got some oceanfront property in Arizona.

What really happened was the big box store was, as usual, a disaster. There were people with carts piled high with enough food and junk to keep a family of four supplied for months. What is it about the threat of any kind of weather involving moisture that makes people lose their minds? One drop and all the bread, milk, and bottled water disappears from the shelves. Maybe I should have paid closer attention to what the other shoppers had in their carts (like enough bottles of water to fill a small swimming pool). No sooner had we gotten home when our tap water disappeared and we were caught with one bottle of water in the fridge. Apparently, all the water in our water tower disappeared and the authorities have no idea where it went. Maybe the big box store shoppers tapped into it when the bottled water ran out.

Binge shopping might be necessary in the northernmost states, I don't know since I've never lived farther north than northwestern Oklahoma, but I'm pretty sure they'll be stuck eating beans and Pop-Tarts until Spring when the next "better hunker down" weather phenomenon occurs and the weatherpersons spend all day and all night informing us that we could get a tornado, or maybe not. Or a foot of rain. Or maybe not.

In the meantime, I think I'll join the other big box store patrons who are set up across the street from the big box store selling water tower bottled water. Cheers!