Here's a pic to help get your mind off the snow. I've been listening to the news for the last hour, and it's really funny to hear how the reporters attempt to work everyone up into a frenzy.
"Drivers are at an absolute standstill on area highways; it's like a scene from a movie!" (this was said no fewer than 5 times)
"The state was well-prepared for this storm, the problem is that everyone left work at noon. They should have stayed home, or staggered the times that they left."
"Cars are running out of gas they've been stuck in traffic for so long!"
They have one good point though, that drivers tend to clog up intersections in their hastiness to get through red lights. They rush to get through and then get "stuck" in the middle of the intersection, blocking the traffic that has the current green light from getting through, and creating a vicious cycle. But why harp on this during a snowstorm? It happens every day around here...drivers are remedial in our fair state. We need major reform - a much more difficult and recurrent driver's test, for one thing.
I also made the mistake of watching the news last night before the Dinnerman and I had a wonderful evening with a friend at The University Club (very exclusive and beautiful in an old Benefit Street/East Side house, very fawning staff, very waspy guests, very ordinary food, very delicious Mt. Veeder Cabernet Sauvignon).
This resulted in some frenzied grocery shopping this morning, you know, just in case we get snowed in and just so we don't starve!!!
After postponing my afternoon plans, I passed time making a delicious sausage and lentil soup with cabbage, because I've been on a cabbage kick lately.
Around 4, I cleaned off the car and drove around the block. That took a half hour, because of all the traffic trying to get on 195.
Now I am sitting on the floor sipping a screwdriver, listening to the damn news as ambient noise. Noise is really what it is.
Anyway, I have been thinking lately about how hunger is related to fear. I read an entry on April's blog where she explicitly noted this connection, and for me it's definitely true.
Here's a link to her blog: http://www.mprize.org/blogs
Here's the relevant excerpt:
"At the base of it, hunger is about fear. Fear that you'll never eat again, never have your needs met. But if you know you'll be okay, no matter what, the fear goes away."
Maybe it's especially true for women, who have a tendency to nest, and for people who lived through The Depression. The Dinnerman noted long ago my tendency to worry about where my next meal is coming from. I think I get this from my grandmother, who lived through the Depression, and who has had much happen in her life to set her world on end, to instill fear.
As a child, I didn't understand why she was so afraid, seemingly of anything and everything. She worried about us kids swimming in the pool, worried that she may never again see the people she loved (she would never say "goodbye" - it was always "so long"). She worried about not having enough food and about running out of gas. She used to worry about not getting to appointments on time, and worry when she didn't get her electric bill by the usual time of the month.
I then learned a bit about her life - how she was widowed at 23 when her husband was shot down in a plane in the war, pregnant with her 2 year old daugher in the hospital with pneumonia. She lost the baby.
Then, after remarrying (my grandfather) and having several more children, she lost a baby girl to crib death.
She lost her father in his fifties. She lost her mother.
She was widowed a second time.
My grandmother was afraid because she was well acquainted with losing people she loved. Because she was well acquainted with having to survive without what she needed.
My dad described it well, years before I could even comprehend what he meant, "She's very scared, and she's very strong."
Yes, grandma, you are very strong. I love you, and I miss you. And I understand you now, if just a little bit.
For now I am safe, I am warm, I am dry, and I have plenty to eat and drink. Most importantly, I am a well-loved woman. And that is more than enough.
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