The Italian pastry shoppe near my home is famous for it's baked goods and around the holidays, it is nearly impossible to get in the door. I once went the day before Thanksgiving and had to take a number and return two hours later and still had to wait another 45 minutes before my number was called.
People from North Jersey and all over the state make a journey to the bakery prior to the holidays. So, I knew to get ahead of the rush and went in the Monday before Thanksgiving for the delicious pignoli cookies they bake which keep very well when refrigerated or even frozen.
Making light chit chat with the woman behind the counter, who has been there as long as I can remember, I asked how she managed to stay so thin. "I don't really like cookies, " she said, gesturing around her. "After awhile, you get really tired of them."
Nodding, I said, "I can understand that. I worked in a law firm for 25 years. I'm really tired of lawyers."
She cracked up, "Oh, I can just imagine."
"But. . . " I smiled, "I'd much rather pay for a cookie than an attorney."
"Absolutely!" she exclaimed.
The irony was, I had actually purchased a pound of the cookies to bring to my former boss and friend with whom I was having lunch the following day. It had been a long tradition that I would bring her the cookies for the holiday. It was she, in fact, who had turned me on to the bakery in the first place after attending a cooking class where the cookies were served. She told me, "There is an Italian pastry shop near you, you have to go in there and get the pignoli cookies. They're exquisite, like nothing I've ever tasted before, perfectly baked, moist, but not mushy and not overbaked or hard. . ." So, for 12 years since moving here, I would bring her cookies for the holidays and her birthday. Now that we no longer work together, there was no reason to stop.
She and her husband and their son were all attorneys, although she was now retired. She used to hate attending bar dinners. "I am a lawyer, I'm married to one, my son is one. I work with other lawyers and I deal with lawyers all day long. Why in God's name would I want to attend a dinner with a bunch of them?" It would be an understatement to say that she, more than anyone I knew, was extremely tired of lawyers.
But not cookies. Especially the pignoli cookies from that bakery which I would hope to continue bringing to her well into the future.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Winter Blues II
Another walk in the park. Cattus Island, a multi-eco system county park which consists of martime forest, freshwater wetlands and saltwater marshes, is a short jaunt from our home and one of my favorite thinking places. Abundant with trails, today we set out for another stroll, even though the elements were not the best. While 43 degrees, it was often overcast and very windy, making temperatures seem just above freezing.
At the end of the mile, we came upon the bayshore which was hugged by broken ice, several inches thick, with smaller islands of ice being tossed around in the cold waves. We were amazed by the amount of ice that remained along the shoreline. On the other side of the narrow sandy beach, rested a marsh.
It was brisk adventure, to say the least, but it felt good to get out, find trails we had not yet seen and map out our strolls for warmer weather when the park should be full of life. The best part is, the park is close to where we live and yet, mentally, it can take us far, far away from the daily hustles and bustles of life. 
This would be our first trek down this mile long trail known as the "unpaved road." Seagulls, ducks and a few geese waded the waters and soared over the marshland, sometimes against winds so strong that the gulls almost seemed suspended in mid-air.
There is solace and quietude at Cattus. We talked about how each visit there has been a treat, always seeing something new, even in the dead of winter. While we still have wildlife to find "in season", for now we are learning the terrain and geography so that in warmer months, we can turn our attention more at what we see in between the landscapes. There is something both envigorating about Cattus, as well as almost creepy at times because it can be so desolate, despite being situated in a major county seat. While there, you feel like you're on another planet.
As we came upon the shoreline, the wind was strong and constant. It was very cold, but we had dressed appropriately. With each step forward, the gusts intensified as we walked along the beach. We considered abandoning the stroll, dreading the return walk in which we would be walking against the wind. Nevertheless, we continued on, walking on the sand in boots, admiring the sheets of ice and snow that were being tossed by the waves before us. We came around a bend and found a gigantic pile of snow and ice, as if a snow plow had come along, but none had. We called it "the iceberg."
The iceberg was the end of the trail, so we turned and headed back along the beach, walking into the strong, cold winds, thankful the sun had come out to warm our faces. The howling of the wind made it impossible for us to really talk to each other, and the walk itself, on the sand, made us winded.
As we pulled away from the shoreline, we were amazed by the temperature difference, as well as how much quieter things became again. We sat on a bench for several minutes, catching our breath and sharing a bottle of water before heading around the Scout trail, just short of a mile, where we were delighted to find another "hidden beach" with the Mathis bridge going into Seaside Heights off in the distance.
It was brisk adventure, to say the least, but it felt good to get out, find trails we had not yet seen and map out our strolls for warmer weather when the park should be full of life. The best part is, the park is close to where we live and yet, mentally, it can take us far, far away from the daily hustles and bustles of life. 
Foxy Lady!
I told my husband that if we went down to Island Beach State Park, we could see some red fox. He agreed to go, but he said we wouldn't see any. I told him that I'd seen pictures on FlickR that others had taken and that the red fox were visibly abundant this time of year. Again, he told me we woudn't see any foxes, but it was sunny, so we would go for a walk even though the temperatures were just below 40 degrees.
We drove into the park and not long before entering, I yelled, "There! There's a fox!" Sure enough, there was a beautiful red fox along the roadside. We fumbled about with our cameras to get a shot. I was pretty confident we'd see more, so I drove on while my husband said, "I really didn't think we'd see any, but I was wrong. But, that's probably it, that's all we'll see." "No," I said, "You'll see. There's more."
Two minutes later, we saw a second. We pulled over in a lot and watched this beauty sniff around cautiously before going over to lay down and bask in the sunlight. We didn't have any food to offer, so she wasn't going to waste much of her busy schedule with us. (Note: I have no way of knowing what gender any of these animals were, but if I had to guess, I think this one was female. She was tired enough, no doubt having to look after, care for and feed younger cubs hiding somewhere in the barrier island forestry.)
We drove on through the park to a lot near a trail leading to a bird blind we had tried to hike last summer, before being chased out of the trail by a swarm of relentless mosquitoes. Being winter, it seemed unlikely we would encounter that problem again, so taking our cameras, we ventured out. It was a lovely walk and we could see some geese, gulls and a blue heron in the distance, but we didn't meet up with any foxes.
The joy that rushed through my veins was incredible. This was the reason I bought that new camera. This was why I was there. And not only that, I had again proved my husband wrong. It doesn't get much better than that!
We drove into the park and not long before entering, I yelled, "There! There's a fox!" Sure enough, there was a beautiful red fox along the roadside. We fumbled about with our cameras to get a shot. I was pretty confident we'd see more, so I drove on while my husband said, "I really didn't think we'd see any, but I was wrong. But, that's probably it, that's all we'll see." "No," I said, "You'll see. There's more."
Two minutes later, we saw a second. We pulled over in a lot and watched this beauty sniff around cautiously before going over to lay down and bask in the sunlight. We didn't have any food to offer, so she wasn't going to waste much of her busy schedule with us. (Note: I have no way of knowing what gender any of these animals were, but if I had to guess, I think this one was female. She was tired enough, no doubt having to look after, care for and feed younger cubs hiding somewhere in the barrier island forestry.)
Returning to the car, we drove on, although this time I had my husband drive so I could be camera-ready when we came upon the next fox. Just as we arrived at the last parking lot, we were met by another red fox. It became obvious to me that with the cold, the foxes had come to expect human visitors with the hopes that they would ignore the postings to not feed the wildlife. We did not feed them, but just as we arrived, a van with a family was pulling away, with the father throwing the last doggie treat out the window. "Jerks" we both said.
My husband admitted again that I was right about seeing foxes. I was gloating. "I told you so." After a few rounds with the camera, I ventured out of the car slowly. While snapping photos, the fox and I bonded, actually making eye contact. I could see a distinct marking on the one side of its face and decided to name him "Scarface", assuming immediately he must be a male. I spoke to him gently.
Although he grew bored of me hoping I would have food for him, which I did not, he was not dismissive. He responded when I would click my tongue, looking at me or in my direction, allowing me to continue snapping away. I carefully inched along, not making any sudden movements as I composed and steadied myself to get in close. Keeping a safe distance, but less than ten feet, he posed for me beautifully.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Get off the Road!
It snowed again. What's with the idiots on the road in their big SUVs that think they can just plow down the road without any regard whatsoever for the other drivers? Today, I was the fifth car following the snowplow/sander down a busy two lane highway. We were in the left lane. There was no passing because the plow had a plume of shit (snow, slush and God knows what, maybe sand) that it was throwing off into the right lanes. Unless you wanted your car doused with the crap, you'd be an idiot to try to get ahead of it. And besides, who wants to get ahead of the plow when it's clearing the road as it goes along, making it safer for you to drive? But, no, every so often, there was some ass who would try to pass the plow in the right lane and invariably, got completely deluged by the plume. You could literally hear the snow, ice and slush just pummel into the side and top of their vehicle, even five cars behind. One car was so plowed with crap, it nearly went off the road. And, truthfully, you couldn't help but smile and say, "What the hell were you thinking would happen, you freakin' jerk!" or something of the sort.
While I was cautiously driving and listening to the local news station, some girl called and said she didn't know what the "big deal" was, "it's not that much snow" and she didn't know why the parkway was "so backed up." She then boasted that she was on her way "up North to spend the day snowboarding." The radio host asked what she was driving and she said "a Suburban." So, we the listeners all knew that here was a spoiled brat who probably doesn't even hold a job, whose parents have given her a large SUV, that she was carelessly barrelling down the parkway in, totally unaffected and unconcerned about anyone else on the road, regardless of their age or what type of vehicle they were driving. I wanted to scream, "You're probably the dipshit who caused the massive multicar accident on the parkway that caused it to back up about seven miles, you damn brat!" Apparently, I wasn't the only listener who became incensed as others began calling in, spewing off digs about this girl's attitude, especially those callers who had already been delayed an hour or so by the horrendous road conditions during their commute. Admittedly, I found myself hoping that any moment she'd call back and announce that she'd been sideswiped by a plow and that her snowboard smashed her windshield after being rammed up her butt and shot out through her left nostril. Or something. But, I know, you should never wish bad things on people.
It's like the moron who doesn't sweep off the snow from the top of their vehicle so that while driving down the road, suddenly their Mount Everast flies off, smashing into your windshield and blinding you for a moment while hopefully, not breaking your wipers. "Hey, jerk!" you want to yell, "Why don't you have your damn Honor Student clean off your car before you take it on the road!" You know the type. They have the cute little stick family stickers on their back windshield, sometimes with a cat or a dog. And a Jesus fish.
I'm always astounded by the people who are so self-absorbed on the road during hazardous weather. Usually, bad weather brings out the best in people. They shovel walkways for old ladies. They drive carefully, not just because they want to safely get to where they're going, but they sincerely want you to as well. They push and rock and shovel out vehicles that get stuck in the snow or plowed in. They sometimes freeze their own butts off to help other people. It's a "coming together" against the elements kind of mentality. We're all in this together, may as well help out those less fortunate. I always tell the gas attendants to "try to stay warm today." So, when I see people who are less than courteous, I am aghast. Most of them are on the roads. Most of them are in SUVs. I have a SUV. I'm short. I'm very short. I know it's difficult to get the snow off the top of my vehicle. That's why I married someone who is tall. And, if he's not around, that's what brooms are for. It's awkward, yes. It's unpleasant, I know. But, it's the law. I wouldn't own such a vehicle if I didn't have a tall husband or a broom.
At the same token, I don't understand the rush. Everyone knows it snowed. Everyone knows road conditions are bad. Everyone is running late. Bosses know their employees will arrive late or, in some instances, not at all. Doctors offices are often flooded with messages cancelling appointments. Flights are delayed. I never understand then why everyone feels they have to get out on the road and go, despite the fact it's dangerous and the likelihood of an accident is high. Wait it out. Let the plows do their jobs. Your boss isn't paying your car insurance or repairs if you're in an accident, right? So, take your time if you go in at all. Hit the road after the rush hour. Get out on the road when temperatures are safely above freezing so there's no "black ice" to worry about. Unless you are habitually out for any reason at all, many employers don't consider snow days as your personal days or sick days. If you can't get to work because you're under two feet of snow, there's a good chance everyone else is as well, including the boss. There's nothing more important than your safety and the safety of others.
As for you young, spoiled idiots who drive the trucks paid for by Mommy and Daddy, tell the victims of the car accidents that delayed your snowboarding trip that it was "no big deal." Go ahead and look them in the eye and tell them that. See where that gets you. And maybe when the snow and slush and salt is cleared off your vehicle after you cut off the snowplow, you'll find it has pitted the paint on your expensive vehicle and the sand, salt and grime has ground out your window motor and it won't open anymore.
I can only hope. Ya jerk!
While I was cautiously driving and listening to the local news station, some girl called and said she didn't know what the "big deal" was, "it's not that much snow" and she didn't know why the parkway was "so backed up." She then boasted that she was on her way "up North to spend the day snowboarding." The radio host asked what she was driving and she said "a Suburban." So, we the listeners all knew that here was a spoiled brat who probably doesn't even hold a job, whose parents have given her a large SUV, that she was carelessly barrelling down the parkway in, totally unaffected and unconcerned about anyone else on the road, regardless of their age or what type of vehicle they were driving. I wanted to scream, "You're probably the dipshit who caused the massive multicar accident on the parkway that caused it to back up about seven miles, you damn brat!" Apparently, I wasn't the only listener who became incensed as others began calling in, spewing off digs about this girl's attitude, especially those callers who had already been delayed an hour or so by the horrendous road conditions during their commute. Admittedly, I found myself hoping that any moment she'd call back and announce that she'd been sideswiped by a plow and that her snowboard smashed her windshield after being rammed up her butt and shot out through her left nostril. Or something. But, I know, you should never wish bad things on people.
It's like the moron who doesn't sweep off the snow from the top of their vehicle so that while driving down the road, suddenly their Mount Everast flies off, smashing into your windshield and blinding you for a moment while hopefully, not breaking your wipers. "Hey, jerk!" you want to yell, "Why don't you have your damn Honor Student clean off your car before you take it on the road!" You know the type. They have the cute little stick family stickers on their back windshield, sometimes with a cat or a dog. And a Jesus fish.
I'm always astounded by the people who are so self-absorbed on the road during hazardous weather. Usually, bad weather brings out the best in people. They shovel walkways for old ladies. They drive carefully, not just because they want to safely get to where they're going, but they sincerely want you to as well. They push and rock and shovel out vehicles that get stuck in the snow or plowed in. They sometimes freeze their own butts off to help other people. It's a "coming together" against the elements kind of mentality. We're all in this together, may as well help out those less fortunate. I always tell the gas attendants to "try to stay warm today." So, when I see people who are less than courteous, I am aghast. Most of them are on the roads. Most of them are in SUVs. I have a SUV. I'm short. I'm very short. I know it's difficult to get the snow off the top of my vehicle. That's why I married someone who is tall. And, if he's not around, that's what brooms are for. It's awkward, yes. It's unpleasant, I know. But, it's the law. I wouldn't own such a vehicle if I didn't have a tall husband or a broom.
At the same token, I don't understand the rush. Everyone knows it snowed. Everyone knows road conditions are bad. Everyone is running late. Bosses know their employees will arrive late or, in some instances, not at all. Doctors offices are often flooded with messages cancelling appointments. Flights are delayed. I never understand then why everyone feels they have to get out on the road and go, despite the fact it's dangerous and the likelihood of an accident is high. Wait it out. Let the plows do their jobs. Your boss isn't paying your car insurance or repairs if you're in an accident, right? So, take your time if you go in at all. Hit the road after the rush hour. Get out on the road when temperatures are safely above freezing so there's no "black ice" to worry about. Unless you are habitually out for any reason at all, many employers don't consider snow days as your personal days or sick days. If you can't get to work because you're under two feet of snow, there's a good chance everyone else is as well, including the boss. There's nothing more important than your safety and the safety of others.
As for you young, spoiled idiots who drive the trucks paid for by Mommy and Daddy, tell the victims of the car accidents that delayed your snowboarding trip that it was "no big deal." Go ahead and look them in the eye and tell them that. See where that gets you. And maybe when the snow and slush and salt is cleared off your vehicle after you cut off the snowplow, you'll find it has pitted the paint on your expensive vehicle and the sand, salt and grime has ground out your window motor and it won't open anymore.
I can only hope. Ya jerk!
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Winter's Solitude - A photo essay of a saltwater marsh in NJ
For some reason, since mid-November, I hadn't been out of the house but to go to work, food and holiday shopping. Before I knew it, the holidays were upon us, as well as over two feet of snow. By mid-January, with temperatures too low to melt most of the snow three weeks old, I was suddenly overcome by cabin fever. Thankfully, a Saturday came with a temperature of nearly 40 degrees (but not quite), so I bundled up and headed outdoors with my two cameras in hand to a nearby saltwater marsh wetland park for some fresh air.
The gentle, cold breeze rustled the nearby phragmites and in the far distance, I could hear an occasional squawk from a feathered friend. 
I was immediately awed by the frozen waves, suspending it seemed, the entire bay that was so alive only months before with boats, jetskis and wakes that slapped ashore. As I strolled along the bayside, the crackling of the frozen waves beneath my feet broke the otherwise deafening vast silence that surrounded me. Upon closer examination, it appeared as if the foam that was normally present on the edges of each wave ripple was captured in time as ice.
I walked about a mile before returning to my car and headed for the main entrance to the park to see if the trails were accessible through the saltwater marsh. Although there were several other cars in the lot, with people either arriving or leaving, on the trails themselves I did not encounter another human being. My first stop, however, was to the observation deck that overlooks the marsh basin. There, I was greeted by a little surprise.
I hit the red trail and started my journey. The forest around me provided some protection against the cold breeze. The trail was snow-covered, but manageable with the boots I wore. The sounds of nature surrounded me from utter silence to the occasional gentle wind, the dripping of melting snow onto a log, a rippling in the stream, and every so often quacking geese, but most amazingly, were the curious creeking noises of some of the trees which was at once both creepy and marvelous.
The dramatic contrast of the snow covered trees was reflected perfectly upon the dark water of the stream in an eerie, yet striking manner. The deadness of winter was evident, yet alive all the same as life hibernated behind the mask of bitter temperatures and under blankets of snow.
Snow sprinkled feathery "cat tails" caught my eye as well.
Unfortunately, it was only a matter of time before a call from the outside world on my cell beckoned me to head back, just about an hour before sunset.
I look forward to returning to Cattus Island again. It's a peaceful retreat, any time of year and a testimony that beauty exists along the Jersey Shore in winter if you just take the time to notice.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Weather Report
The greatest job in the world has to be meterologist, especially the ones on tv, the celebrity "weatherman." First of all, it seems to be a mandatory requirement that if you're a meterologist (which are generally males, if you'll note), you have to be somewhat goofy, gregarious and maybe even a tad eccentric so that people gather around cheering as you predict the weather. As a representative of the forecast on every morning show, it is incumbant upon them to leave the studio and hit the street, surround themselves with fans of the show who cheer and hold up signs mouthing, "I love you" to their family back home who are sitting just inches from their televisions with coffee cups in hand, "There she is!" Then the celebrity weatherman refers back to "your local weatherman" who is usually in a studio or radio station to give your area's specific forecast (always a lesser known meterologist and without the fanfare). The morning show celebrity meterologist seems to have to engage in some sort of schtick or joviality every day while the local guys and gals are just pleasant. No matter what, though, all their forecasts are usually wrong.
Then there's the ones from the "Weather Channel." Without fail, the women usually end up pregnant and eventually block out the entire eastern corridor as their bellies expand before they give birth and are never seen again. The men are the ones that usually get sent out "on location" to some horrendous weather location, either during the heart of a major storm like a blizzard or hurricane when they're often tethered to something concrete (hopefully), or they're reporting from the ruins and aftermath of a horrific weather event like a tornado. There's also the poor guy who always seems to be reporting from some airport that's backed up with cancelled flights due to a storm. I suspect he's usually "the new guy."
The best part of being a meterologist, however, is that you never lose your job, despite the fact that they are all generally wrong about their forecasts, at least 70% of the time. I've never seen a less precise science. Despite all our advanced technology and incredible knowledge, I am astounded by the inaccuracy of weather reporting. I understand that there are times when there could be a 50% chance of rain and it could go either way, just from one town to the next, a true hit or miss. But, when you start getting into the 75% chance of rain, I expect to see rain, not sunshine. I expect overcast and cloudy at least part of the day. If I hear 60%, I spend a great deal of time fretting because I know that if I cancel plans, the clouds will never come, but if I go ahead with them, there will be a deluge of rain. I'm not just talking "luck" here, either. Perhaps the most disturbing of all, is the inaccuracy of the forecasting where it concerns snowstorms. Time and time again, they predict accumulations that are totally off the mark. When they say a storm could produce less than ten inches of snow, it's generally more and best you be prepared for the worst. When they "predict" it could be about four inches, it's a dusting that never sticks. More often than not, people run to the stores and stock up on food when it turns out to be nothing more than rain. Of course, when they say that it'll be a rain and sleet mix, you never bother going to the store and then wake up the next day under two feet of snow and no groceries simply because during the night, temperatures dropped to 25 degrees and everything froze. But, when it's 36 degrees and daylight, don't expect more than rain or sleet, despite what they might tell you. 33 degrees, it's iffy, but 36 degrees means rain.
On a positive note, however, if you're the type who did prepare by stocking up on food supplies, at least if you lose your power for any length of time, you can just take those groceries and stick them in the snow outside your back door (if you have one) to keep cold. In fact, we stock our garage during the winter with all kinds of cold beverages. We'll never go thirsty in the winter and we know the field mice seeking shelter in there from the lower temps can't open jars and canned goods, so no worries there.
As I once read in an explanation, a forecast is ALWAYS correct, because it's not really a prediction of what will happen, it's a statement about the frequency of what came next when similar patterns occurred in the past. "We just expect too much of them!"
I take issue with that, however. According to my Webster's dictionary, the definition of "forecast" is: a prediction. And a prediction is: the telling of something in advance. There's no mention about either being based upon the past. And, frankly, based on the past, they've been notoriously wrong about predicting upcoming weather conditions. Sounds like the explanation given was construed by lawyers so the weather stations wouldn't be held liable for any unforeseen changes in the forecasts.
Then there's the ambiguous forecasting technique which scrolls across the screen, for example: "STARTING TUESDAY NIGHT THROUGH THE END OF NEXT WEEK. . . THERE IS THE POTENTIAL FOR A WIDESPREAD HEAVY SNOW EVENT SOMEWHERE IN WESTERN NEW JERSEY. . . GREAT UNCERTAINTY INHERENTLY EXISTS IN A FORECAST WITH THIS MUCH LEAD TIME. . AND IT IS POSSIBLE THAT A HEAVY SNOW SITUATION WILL NOT DEVELOP."
I think forecasters are in cahoots with retailers, frankly. People hear what they want to hear, so throw them a morsel and watch them go into utter panic and race out to the local market to stock up, run to the hardware store for shovels and spreading salt and over to KMart for some new mittens for the kids who lost the last pair sledding after the unforeseen snow storm that blew through the week prior.
My favorite weather reporting is when they say it's 29 degrees "feels like 13" with the wind chills. Where do they come up with those numbers? Who is to say what it "feels" like? What exactly does the difference feel like between 13, 14 or 15 degrees anyway? "It feels like 12 degrees out here!" you yell as you chisel the ice off your windshield. "No, no" says your neighbor, "it's more like 15, that's what the weatherman said." "Oh, go f*ck yourself!" you scream through chattering teeth and brutal winds. And is that determined by how many layers you're wearing or from what material your coat is? Certainly a coat made from bear is warmer than a wool coat. Or, is it solely based on how quickly your ears freeze if not covered and the strength of the wind? Because even a 5 mph wind in 20 degrees is ferocious on the ears.
No matter what, however, weathermen just never lose their jobs for inaccurate forecasting. They may lose their jobs because they show up inebriated or don't show up at all, but never because of their shoddy forecasts. It's a great gig. Where else can one work and repeatedly screw up and not get fired? One can spend hours gathering information and reading Doplars, only to share that information with multitudes of people (many of whom plan their entire day or weekend based on the information provdided) and not have any consequences when the information sharing is completely wrong. And either all the channels give you completely different readings or they tell you the same exact prediction. I don't know which is worse, but I can guarantee they're all wrong anyway. I used to think that Weatherman A would cheat and just look over at Weatherman B's report two channels over and then read it as if it were his own prediction. Why not? It's not like anyone would fire them for it. How would they even know?
Indeed, it's the best job in the world.
Then there's the ones from the "Weather Channel." Without fail, the women usually end up pregnant and eventually block out the entire eastern corridor as their bellies expand before they give birth and are never seen again. The men are the ones that usually get sent out "on location" to some horrendous weather location, either during the heart of a major storm like a blizzard or hurricane when they're often tethered to something concrete (hopefully), or they're reporting from the ruins and aftermath of a horrific weather event like a tornado. There's also the poor guy who always seems to be reporting from some airport that's backed up with cancelled flights due to a storm. I suspect he's usually "the new guy."
The best part of being a meterologist, however, is that you never lose your job, despite the fact that they are all generally wrong about their forecasts, at least 70% of the time. I've never seen a less precise science. Despite all our advanced technology and incredible knowledge, I am astounded by the inaccuracy of weather reporting. I understand that there are times when there could be a 50% chance of rain and it could go either way, just from one town to the next, a true hit or miss. But, when you start getting into the 75% chance of rain, I expect to see rain, not sunshine. I expect overcast and cloudy at least part of the day. If I hear 60%, I spend a great deal of time fretting because I know that if I cancel plans, the clouds will never come, but if I go ahead with them, there will be a deluge of rain. I'm not just talking "luck" here, either. Perhaps the most disturbing of all, is the inaccuracy of the forecasting where it concerns snowstorms. Time and time again, they predict accumulations that are totally off the mark. When they say a storm could produce less than ten inches of snow, it's generally more and best you be prepared for the worst. When they "predict" it could be about four inches, it's a dusting that never sticks. More often than not, people run to the stores and stock up on food when it turns out to be nothing more than rain. Of course, when they say that it'll be a rain and sleet mix, you never bother going to the store and then wake up the next day under two feet of snow and no groceries simply because during the night, temperatures dropped to 25 degrees and everything froze. But, when it's 36 degrees and daylight, don't expect more than rain or sleet, despite what they might tell you. 33 degrees, it's iffy, but 36 degrees means rain.
On a positive note, however, if you're the type who did prepare by stocking up on food supplies, at least if you lose your power for any length of time, you can just take those groceries and stick them in the snow outside your back door (if you have one) to keep cold. In fact, we stock our garage during the winter with all kinds of cold beverages. We'll never go thirsty in the winter and we know the field mice seeking shelter in there from the lower temps can't open jars and canned goods, so no worries there.
As I once read in an explanation, a forecast is ALWAYS correct, because it's not really a prediction of what will happen, it's a statement about the frequency of what came next when similar patterns occurred in the past. "We just expect too much of them!"
I take issue with that, however. According to my Webster's dictionary, the definition of "forecast" is: a prediction. And a prediction is: the telling of something in advance. There's no mention about either being based upon the past. And, frankly, based on the past, they've been notoriously wrong about predicting upcoming weather conditions. Sounds like the explanation given was construed by lawyers so the weather stations wouldn't be held liable for any unforeseen changes in the forecasts.
Then there's the ambiguous forecasting technique which scrolls across the screen, for example: "STARTING TUESDAY NIGHT THROUGH THE END OF NEXT WEEK. . . THERE IS THE POTENTIAL FOR A WIDESPREAD HEAVY SNOW EVENT SOMEWHERE IN WESTERN NEW JERSEY. . . GREAT UNCERTAINTY INHERENTLY EXISTS IN A FORECAST WITH THIS MUCH LEAD TIME. . AND IT IS POSSIBLE THAT A HEAVY SNOW SITUATION WILL NOT DEVELOP."
I think forecasters are in cahoots with retailers, frankly. People hear what they want to hear, so throw them a morsel and watch them go into utter panic and race out to the local market to stock up, run to the hardware store for shovels and spreading salt and over to KMart for some new mittens for the kids who lost the last pair sledding after the unforeseen snow storm that blew through the week prior.
My favorite weather reporting is when they say it's 29 degrees "feels like 13" with the wind chills. Where do they come up with those numbers? Who is to say what it "feels" like? What exactly does the difference feel like between 13, 14 or 15 degrees anyway? "It feels like 12 degrees out here!" you yell as you chisel the ice off your windshield. "No, no" says your neighbor, "it's more like 15, that's what the weatherman said." "Oh, go f*ck yourself!" you scream through chattering teeth and brutal winds. And is that determined by how many layers you're wearing or from what material your coat is? Certainly a coat made from bear is warmer than a wool coat. Or, is it solely based on how quickly your ears freeze if not covered and the strength of the wind? Because even a 5 mph wind in 20 degrees is ferocious on the ears.
No matter what, however, weathermen just never lose their jobs for inaccurate forecasting. They may lose their jobs because they show up inebriated or don't show up at all, but never because of their shoddy forecasts. It's a great gig. Where else can one work and repeatedly screw up and not get fired? One can spend hours gathering information and reading Doplars, only to share that information with multitudes of people (many of whom plan their entire day or weekend based on the information provdided) and not have any consequences when the information sharing is completely wrong. And either all the channels give you completely different readings or they tell you the same exact prediction. I don't know which is worse, but I can guarantee they're all wrong anyway. I used to think that Weatherman A would cheat and just look over at Weatherman B's report two channels over and then read it as if it were his own prediction. Why not? It's not like anyone would fire them for it. How would they even know?
Indeed, it's the best job in the world.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Winter Blues
UGH. Only about six days into Winter and having just made it through Christmas, we were slammed with a N'oreaster with blizzard-like results, forcing most of the Jersey coast into a state of paralysis for nearly a week between the two major holidays. Three days home from work because of the storm, I ate up all the cookies and cakes leftover from Christmas, simmered a pot of soup, a crock of stew and enjoyed alot of television time with the remote while my poor husband froze his ass off shoveling and snowblowing our large driveway, walkway and part of our deck. It was great.
Oh, I mean, you know, it was great when he was all done shovelling and could hang out with me. That's really what I meant, I swear it.
So much so that I began thumbing through my guide books and doing internet research, picking out destinations for weekend getaways and vacations for the year ahead. Since the past year was spent hiking and driving through the Adirondacks and Finger Lakes pretty much by my desire, I am inclined this year to listen more to my husband's desires for a vacation which are to swim, relax, beach and stay closer to home. While he would love to fly out to an exotic island, he recognizes that we cannot afford such a venture at this time, nor can I commit to being too far from my elderly mother who is in my sole care.
My birthday is in January and I announced recently that I hated having a Winter birthday. As a kid, I never had a fun birthday party at the pool or beach. I had cold birthdays when we couldn't play outside and it was dark by dinnertime. As I got older, my birthday plans always seemed to compete with snow storms or the Superbowl. It sucked! While we mulled over a list of things we could do for my special day, my husband looked at me in all earnst and declared, "Your birthday really sucks, you know that? It's too damn cold to do anything."
Determined to make the best of it, I spent hours searching for a nice getaway, but the more I looked, the more I found wonderful places to stay when the days were longer and the weather was warmer. In fact, I found one B&B at a lovely historic home that I fell in love with in New Hope, PA, situated on 4 acres with gardens, and two lovely pools that I booked right away for Tom's July birthday, especially after reading all the glowing reviews on TripAdvisor and elsewhere.
At that moment, I decided to move my birthday to May so I could enjoy a warm weather birthday. Accordingly, I'm no longer a January birthday and I've switched dates with my mother. I told her, "Look at it this way, at least you know you'll likely make it to 82 if you celebrate it in January. And I get to stay just a tiny bit younger for almost five months. It's a win-win!" She agreed it was a good deal.
Thus,with my new birthdate set for May, Tom and I decided on a three day weekend at a lovely cottage in Cape May Point near the bayside. In addition, as part of a regular vacation week, we have booked a whole week in Cape May on the Atlantic side for September in order to enjoy both the mid-Spring and late Summer weather for hiking, nature walks and yes, even bird watching. Seriously, that's who we've become now. I bought a book about birds native to the area to watch for and I have the binoculars and camera ready. We've bcome that farty couple and we don't care. We have so little peace and quiet in our daily lives that running away even just an hour from home to watch birds migrate seems like paradise, catching the prime weather just before the deluge of traffic to the Jersey Shore begins and then again after it fades.
Both cottage rentals offer private balconies overlooking gardens where we can enjoy morning coffee before heading out to the parks for the day to explore the bayside nature reserves, enjoy a sunset, climb the lighthouse, or just relax on the beach before returning at day's end to enjoy a glass of wine overlooking the gardens again and taking in the fresh salt air. Our plans incorporate things we each like to do separately, along with things we both enjoy together, without spending crazy money on airfare or gas. The cottages each have small kitchens where we can prepare breakfast and lunch, saving hundreds of dollars on restaurant fare. While we enjoy eating out and I am reimbursed for restaurants I review for Metromix, we also enjoy cooking and dining privately and we know how to pack a cooler well. I'm already working on a grocery list and menus. I'm not normally so organized (or anal, if you will), but what the hell, I have all winter to think about it, why not? A vacation for us is being us anywhere but home.
The bad new is, we have to now wait 5 months for just the first excursion which makes this winter even more unbearable as the biting cold winds envelope our home and grey clouds gather, threatening to dump more snow on our now receded, dirty snow mounds remaining from the last storm of last week. I'm sure in that time, I will come up with more places to visit and things to do the first nice weekend come Spring. For now, however, we're braced for yet another snow storm and I'm thinking of a nice, hot pot of curried chicken soup simmering on the stove while my husband battles the elements outside once again.
Someday, I tell my husband, we'll live somewhere warm year round so we can just pick up and go anywhere and enjoy a weekend, even when it gets dark by dinnertime. And when we do, I'll go back to celebrating my birthday in January.
Oh, I mean, you know, it was great when he was all done shovelling and could hang out with me. That's really what I meant, I swear it.
So much so that I began thumbing through my guide books and doing internet research, picking out destinations for weekend getaways and vacations for the year ahead. Since the past year was spent hiking and driving through the Adirondacks and Finger Lakes pretty much by my desire, I am inclined this year to listen more to my husband's desires for a vacation which are to swim, relax, beach and stay closer to home. While he would love to fly out to an exotic island, he recognizes that we cannot afford such a venture at this time, nor can I commit to being too far from my elderly mother who is in my sole care.
My birthday is in January and I announced recently that I hated having a Winter birthday. As a kid, I never had a fun birthday party at the pool or beach. I had cold birthdays when we couldn't play outside and it was dark by dinnertime. As I got older, my birthday plans always seemed to compete with snow storms or the Superbowl. It sucked! While we mulled over a list of things we could do for my special day, my husband looked at me in all earnst and declared, "Your birthday really sucks, you know that? It's too damn cold to do anything."
Determined to make the best of it, I spent hours searching for a nice getaway, but the more I looked, the more I found wonderful places to stay when the days were longer and the weather was warmer. In fact, I found one B&B at a lovely historic home that I fell in love with in New Hope, PA, situated on 4 acres with gardens, and two lovely pools that I booked right away for Tom's July birthday, especially after reading all the glowing reviews on TripAdvisor and elsewhere.
At that moment, I decided to move my birthday to May so I could enjoy a warm weather birthday. Accordingly, I'm no longer a January birthday and I've switched dates with my mother. I told her, "Look at it this way, at least you know you'll likely make it to 82 if you celebrate it in January. And I get to stay just a tiny bit younger for almost five months. It's a win-win!" She agreed it was a good deal.
Thus,with my new birthdate set for May, Tom and I decided on a three day weekend at a lovely cottage in Cape May Point near the bayside. In addition, as part of a regular vacation week, we have booked a whole week in Cape May on the Atlantic side for September in order to enjoy both the mid-Spring and late Summer weather for hiking, nature walks and yes, even bird watching. Seriously, that's who we've become now. I bought a book about birds native to the area to watch for and I have the binoculars and camera ready. We've bcome that farty couple and we don't care. We have so little peace and quiet in our daily lives that running away even just an hour from home to watch birds migrate seems like paradise, catching the prime weather just before the deluge of traffic to the Jersey Shore begins and then again after it fades.
Both cottage rentals offer private balconies overlooking gardens where we can enjoy morning coffee before heading out to the parks for the day to explore the bayside nature reserves, enjoy a sunset, climb the lighthouse, or just relax on the beach before returning at day's end to enjoy a glass of wine overlooking the gardens again and taking in the fresh salt air. Our plans incorporate things we each like to do separately, along with things we both enjoy together, without spending crazy money on airfare or gas. The cottages each have small kitchens where we can prepare breakfast and lunch, saving hundreds of dollars on restaurant fare. While we enjoy eating out and I am reimbursed for restaurants I review for Metromix, we also enjoy cooking and dining privately and we know how to pack a cooler well. I'm already working on a grocery list and menus. I'm not normally so organized (or anal, if you will), but what the hell, I have all winter to think about it, why not? A vacation for us is being us anywhere but home.
The bad new is, we have to now wait 5 months for just the first excursion which makes this winter even more unbearable as the biting cold winds envelope our home and grey clouds gather, threatening to dump more snow on our now receded, dirty snow mounds remaining from the last storm of last week. I'm sure in that time, I will come up with more places to visit and things to do the first nice weekend come Spring. For now, however, we're braced for yet another snow storm and I'm thinking of a nice, hot pot of curried chicken soup simmering on the stove while my husband battles the elements outside once again.
Someday, I tell my husband, we'll live somewhere warm year round so we can just pick up and go anywhere and enjoy a weekend, even when it gets dark by dinnertime. And when we do, I'll go back to celebrating my birthday in January.
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