‘Sno Fun

The Crone cannot pretend that her time as a snow shut-in has been without its irritations.

First, the kitchen sink is blocked, a fact the Crone discovered only after she’d filled it with all sorts of very dirty pans, and a lot of water. Then she turned on the dishwasher, which caused the flotsam and jetsam in the sink to rise to dangerous levels. A blizzard and flood in one weekend feels like too much.

Secondly, the Crone mistakenly managed to pick up the Country Music version of People Magazine last night at the supermarket as part of her snow weekend reading. The Crone has nothing against country music, in fact she quite likes it, but really this is a very sad publication. Anything that makes you yearn for more details of Heidi Montag’s plastic surgery is a very bad thing.

And then there’s the local news. Every channel has been milking this storm since Tuesday, with each team more annoying than the last. They tell everyone to stay off the streets and sidewalks but fail to follow their own advice. Every news outlet has young, macho reporters in four-wheel drives skating round and round the Beltway with the windshield wipers on, endlessly telling everyone else it is too dangerous to drive. They always report smugly on cars and trucks they’ve seen get stuck, failing to mention that they are probably filled with rival news crews. Then there are the reporters who stand outside gas stations with yard sticks, furry hoods and ostentatious boots, endlessly measuring the snowfall, which never seems to pile up quite as quickly as they want. They too remind everyone else that it is too dangerous to be out and, as they are only showing us what we can see from our own front windows, it would seem they would be well advised to pack up and go home.

Each channel has a perky young anchor in a silk shirt and beads (most of these are female) who unaccountably blames the weather man (older, drip dry shirt, unfortunate hair) for the snow. “What have you got for us Bob/Tom/Chuck/Jim?”  The weather men boast of their digital dopplers and draw incomprehensible arrows on their maps just to show they can. Then there is the older woman who radiates concern for the outside broadcast staff from the warmth of the studio “Stay warm out there–be safe” The male anchors pretend they will shovel their own driveways when they go home.  All these people are everywhere, pre-empting shows you’d actually like to watch. The channels have removed the digital clocks from the bottom of the screen to make room for a ticker telling you that every Saturday morning dance class, school sport and spaying clinic has been cancelled. Of course it has. No one can get there. It’s not safe to drive or walk. You’ve been saying so for days. Please, please give it a rest. And tell us the time.

Anyhow, since she turned the telly off, the Crone has had a chance to experiment more with her flip video camera. Again, these are not Oscar-worthy clips, but at least you can see the Crone has now mastered the art of the “walk-through” shot, so beloved of camera operators everywhere.

About Liz Barron

US Peace Corps Volunteer in Armenia. Permanent address in Washington DC. Deep roots in Northern Ireland and persistent Belfast accent. Blogger,cook, mother, grandma, Scrabble-player and enthusiastic world traveler.
This entry was posted in Crone in the Nation's capital, Life's vexations, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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