February has traditionally been the month for wild weather in central Virginia. Now it’s two days into March but February hasn’t finished messing with us. Today is sunny and the temperature is 77° at 2 PM. Nice, right? But here’s the forecast: Tomorrow, expect snow, sleet, and a high of 37°. Tomorrow night, expect more snow, with a low of 9°. The day after tomorrow will be sunny, with a high near freezing. We pay in spades for the occasional nice day in winter. I’m not complaining. In fact, there’s no point in complaining about the weather, as no one can do anything about it. I’m just making an observation. This time of year has whacky weather. After tomorrow’s snow we may get two sunny days, then on Thursday – a chance for more snow. Yay.
It occurred to me to drive to the Martin’s store and pick up a few food items. Mostly, I wanted to get out of the house. So I did. Drive to the store, that is. Apparently, half the city had the same thought, because they were all there, too. I had gone to Martin’s the day before the city’s first snowfall of the season, and I recalled that while the store was crowded, customers were in good spirits. This approaching winter storm is – well, I’ve lost count, but it’s not the first nor the second nor the third, and I would no longer describe the store’s customers as being in good spirits, or excited, or anticipating. I would describe them as resigned. The novelty has worn off.
I wanted to buy a package of small sirloin steaks, but the store was out of sirloin. Wandering the aisles, I discovered a cooler of pork tenderloins on sale and bought a $22 tenderloin for $9. There’s going to be slow-cookin’ pig tonight, and I’m already anticipating the house slowly filling with the fragrance of delicious pork barbecue. Oh, yeah!
I stopped at the salad bar and fixed myself a mixed green salad in one of those small, clamshell-type, clear plastic containers that always ends up upside-down in the grocery bag. I poured a little balsamic vinaigrette dressing on the salad, blissfully unaware that most of the dressing was destined to leak out of the plastic salad container and into the plastic grocery bag on the drive home.
And on the drive home, as I waited at the exit of the store’s parking lot, waited for the traffic light to turn green, a girl drove past me in a car with no hood (if you’re British, a car with no bonnet). It’s not unusual to see older cars on the road – heck, I drive one. Nor is it unusual to see older cars with various defects: a missing hubcap, a cracked windshield, mismatched paint. But a missing hood – that was a new one. I momentarily wondered what effect six inches of snow and ice would have on her car’s engine. Maybe she’ll throw a tarp over it.
EDIT : I’m back. I walked around the ‘hood, and I encountered a young couple, early twenty-somethings, also walking but with definite purpose, as if they had somewhere to be and didn’t want to be late. The young man was dressed in black head to toe. I guess he hasn’t heard that orange is the new black. The young woman wore a Lil’ Bo Peep costume: a pink and white plaid dress hemmed above her knees, matching headwear, and white stockings from her toes to just above her knees. She was a city Bo Peep – instead of carrying a crook for catching wayward sheep, she wore a Hello Kitty backpack (perhaps holding her “real” clothes). Where were they headed? A costume party? A weird sex party involving beloved fairy tale characters? We’ll never know.
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