Bemoaning Winter Weather

Ever notice how many negative catch-phrases are associated with “snow?”

Snow job.

Snow (cocaine.)

Snow (static on the TV screen.)

Snowbound.

Snowstorm.

Snow-blind.

SNOW (Social Networking Online Whore.)

According to myth, Eskimos have 500 words for “snow.”

I have four: pain in the back.

Unless I can stay home all day in my flannel pajamas, I hate snow. That may sound disloyal coming from a born-and-raised Buffalonian, but it’s true, nonetheless.

Watching the falling flakes as they cover the streets, the sidewalks, the trees, is a beautiful sight, I admit. It’s peaceful, and way cheaper than meds. But if you’re required to show up at a different Zip code in a timely fashion, snow is the Taliban of precipitates.

Last week, after slogging through public transportation to get to work, I spent five hours shoveling my Toyota out from mountains of heavy, wet snow and ice. Afterwards, I could barely bend over to untie my boots. (Thank God for ibuprofen.) I’m no wimp, mind you – I lift weights and work out seven days a week. But I was no match for that mother of a blizzard.

This week, of course, just when the icicles are beginning to melt and life as we know it is slowly returning, a nastier snowstorm is predicted that will again paralyze the region. Face it, the odds are stacked against us as well as every other poor slob on the planet Earth. I don’t care where you live; nature always has the last laugh.

Speaking of laughs, here’s an amusing bit of trivia to keep you warm this winter: “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!,” a  Christmas-time classic by Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne, was written in July 1945 in Hollywood, Calif., during one of the hottest days on record.

Now that’s a snow job I can live with.