It isn’t any clearer now than before watching the forecast on the TV news. I’ve already scoured the internet looking for tips on what to expect in the morning. Talk about confusing.

As I read the thing, there is a 40% chance of sleet after 1am and a 90% chance of sleet before 7am. Really? What does that mean, exactly? The chances for sleet increase, I guess. But then, there’s this other snow part that talks about the percentage-possibility of snow during that same time frame.

Sounds a lot like hedging bets to me.

Maybe they aren’t too sure how it’s going to work itself out. And that is exactly what I need to know.

If it is a less than 50-50 chance of snow and sleet, maybe I better be bedding down instead of sitting in front of the tube trying to understand the forecast, so I can get back to the shop early to peel potatoes and carrots and get the lunch service ready – in case there is no snow. Isn’t that what a 50-50 chance means? Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t.

Snow.

Maybe the 50-50 means no. Nah. No snow. Or just a dusting. In which case, I need to be prepared.

On the other hand, if it is as dire as they seem to imply – what is the point of cooking up Irish stew and potato soup and hand-mashed potatoes when only those with monster-trucks, snowboards, and tennis-rackets strapped to their feet will be able to make it through?

And those folks likely won’t be looking for Irish Bistro carry-out. Probably a Reasor’s-run for Coors Light.

I can jump in behind the wheel, head to the bed, and find myself buried in tomorrow morning. Or I could make a pallet on the floor here at the shop and be ready, however it works out. (Not a comfortable sleep, I’ll admit.)

It reminds me of an afternoon I was working the microphone and had just delivered a weather forecast. Wrapped it up and took off the headphones. The phone rang.

Person on the phone: You just said there was a chance of rain on Saturday.

Me: Uh-huh.

Person, nervously: Well, I’m having an outdoor wedding on Saturday and I need to know if it is going to rain or not. And if it is, I need to know what time it is going to start and how long it is going to last.

Me: Uh. I think you’ve dialed the wrong number. The person in charge of the rain starting and stopping isn’t here.

So there it is. I’m supposedly older and wiser, and here I am hoping for the same sort of exact information that my caller demanded for her wedding all those years ago. She seemed silly to me at the time. And now, here I am looking for the same precise weather-tips. But, hey! Hasn’t technology advanced just a little since those old days?

Isn’t there a radar that can clue us in this techno-age?

Nah.

It’s just sit and wait. Watch and listen. Look out the back door. Look up at the sky. Wait a while. If it does start snowing, imagine if it is the kind that will keep on and on and will fill the streets and intersections beyond recognition. Sniff the air. Might it end after six or seven minutes?

It is beyond the mere mortals.

I can only try to imagine who will be out tomorrow in what might be a cold and snowy midday, wanting Irish stew on a Tuesday lunchtime in February.

Hmmmm. Come to think of it, the stew IS tasty stuff. Could bring a crowd.

Maybe I’d better break out the peeler and chef knife. Chop Chop!

Come visit! (If the meteorologists give the A-OK… like that would ever happen. WHEN the meteorologists give the A-OK, then…)

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main St. Broken Arrow OK!