What Up Babs?

Chicken Little screamed and clawed and clucked. But in the end, the sky didn't fall. Nor much else.

Three days! Three days we heard about the impending snowstorm. "Barbara" they named her. High winds. Deep snows. Impending doom, they said! Doooooooooooom.

Schools closed the afternoon before. Predictions had 10 to 18 inches, with higher amounts possible. One storm would meet another. We should all stock up on bread and water and Chef-Boyardee.

So what if it was a little late in arriving but only by, oh, 7 hours or so. Of course, then the amounts were reduced to 6 to 10 inches. Flakes fell. Barely. However, it merely coated the grass and created wet pavement. Stay indoors unless travel is absolutely necessary, right? But certainly, the wallop was to come.

By the 6pm forecast, snowfall amounts were reduced to 2 to 5 inches. Woah! Bad enough, I guess, but, what the HELL am I going to do with the 32 cans of Beefaroni and 7 loaves of bread I bought in preparation?

At daybreak today I arose early so as to allow time for snow removal and school delays. Racing to the window, I threw open the sash and looked upon the winter wonderland. Initially surprised to find the window wasn't completely blocked by drifting snow, I anticipated the the beauty and purity of newfallen snow covering all in a Snuggie of white.

Then I saw it. The devastation television forecasters and ticker tape warnings that were foretold - we had maybe, maybe, 1 and one-half inches of snow! Babs wasn't quite the bitch we feared.

Where's my can opener?