Lurk around every page on the web. I am sitting at home, watching "Pride and Prejudice," eating Oreos, recovering from whatever long-lasting mystery illness this is that I have, and thinking about snow in MARCH.
I was talking to a friend earlier today, who said that he is amused by my choice to blame weather.com for the meteorological ills visited upon this city. And, I'll admit, it is maybe a strange way to direct my anger. I mean, I went to Ash Wednesday service and got all ashed up (because I do so love that service--it is a good moment in the Christian calendar, filled with redemption and grace and earthiness and re-memory). I sit (because I like the Buddhist idea of practicing things--practicing debate by doing debate, practicing sweeping by doing sweeping, practicing forgiveness by doing forgiveness, practicing practice by doing practice). I talk to the Goddess (because I think she is angry at being almost-erased, and I think she answers many questions the traditional christian church would otherwise like to ignore).
Along those same lines, I blame weather.com for the weather. If we are talking post-structuralist physics here (and, really people, when it comes to weather, we are), I might as well look to the web-site as the site-of-invention. They say we'll have snow, and maybe we will. They say the groundhog saw his shadow, and maybe he did. They say spring is a distant, forgotten future, and perhaps it is. But here's the thing--we buy it. We grant them the burden of proof... and they are more than willing to carry it. So, along with all the neat-o graphics and the various color-coded cloud schemes and the Local Alerts for Bayside, we grant them the power to shape our tomorrow morning. And, to me, that's faith.
So here's to you, weather.com. Bring it.