Well played, Snow, my arch-nemesis, well played. You had them running for cover here in Houston yesterday, dismissing school, closing businesses early, preempting Oprah with endless talk of no one but you. You even fooled them into calling you a storm when you were really just a light dusting.
But when it was all said and done, I won this match, because I know you well. Yesterday I met you having journeyed through the Blizzard of '77 (and '78, and '79, and ...) in Toledo, and the Blizzard of '96 in New York City (and several more winters that were damn close to blizzardy). Zero Visibility is my middle name. I knew you were only teasing yesterday. You didn't frost me into a panic, oh no. Instead you made way for me to have a lovely, leisurely day, browsing an otherwise empty bookstore and noshing in a quiet restaurant where the service was excellent because I was one of only three patrons. And so I say to you, dear Snow, Thank you. This time, that is. If you keep coming to town, I'll go back to Southern California, where you won't find me, and if ever you do, there's always the blue skies of the Caribbean, from there, the Horn of Africa.