Fearing that my flight to Florida to visit my folks would be cancelled, I left yesterday. And so, thanks Jet Blue, here I sit, 62 degrees at 8am, devouring every word and image of the storm. NYC is never more beautiful than in the snow. And I miss the solidarity of family, colleagues, friends, the neighborhood stores, all sharing that scrunched up face and “nature gets her way” sort of look. TV says it is windchill below zero in NYC. My parents think I’m nuts — but that’s nothing new.
My weather standards were forged in four years of college at UB. We knew something about snow. My husband actually drove to work this morning and when I complained, he reminded me, Buffalo rules!