Yesterday the news in and around Smallville was all about the blizzard. It was gonna snow, and it was gonna snow hard. Six-to-ten inches in the Upstate, and three-to-five here in the Midlands.
Last night Carlos and I met Thomas and Roger for an early dinner--sausage and peppers and some fine pinot noir--before the storm. As Carlos and I drove out of Smallville, the rain and winds blew. When we pulled up in front of the restaurant it began to sleet.
Eat fast, I thought, the snows a'comin'.
Ate slow. Laughed. Chatted. Laughed. Laughed. Laughed. Roger and Thomas are a fun couple and we all shared storied and giggled. One of those nice meals you almost never want to end.
But it did.
And we returned home to all the special news bulletins of what was closed, and what was closing and preparing for the blizzard. There were maps, and radar images, and forecasts and it all seemed so serious.
They cancelled Smallville. Seriously, it doesn't exist today.
That's right. Not. One. Flake.