The imperfect storm

A puny example of winter weather: a thin coat of snow, a little ice, the sky ingraciously spitting a few flakes in our direction.

And yet, it was a weather disaster.

People behaved like Floridians on vacation in Denver at Christmas. It was as if they'd never seen this white stuff on the ground before and had no idea how to drive in it.

Schools were canceled, church services abandoned. Making the commute to Lexington this morning, there were casualties strewn along the sides of the highway--cars that didn't quite make it, laid to waste by a skiff of snow.

Admittedly, there were a couple of touchy spots. Stopping meant allowing for a little more distance to slow down.

One guy flipped his JEEP. He climbed out okay, but a little stunned as a photojournalist rushed to capture his expression. The noon newscasts were devoted to minute-by-minute coverage of the weather event of the season. They interviewed people rushing to buy bread and milk. (Why is it always bread and milk? Why doesn't anyone hurry to stock up on Italian sausage and green tea?)

Going home today should be interesting.

Let's hope we make it through this alive.