My Sunday Really Sick of Winter Deivered on Saturday Feeling

I am typing this on Saturday.  It is @ 70 degrees outside.  I hear birds outside my window.  There are golfers down at hallowed and historic War Memorial. The shop across the street heralds the advent of Spring when only last week she was pushing "warm scarves" for sale. And,a zillion people are in our fair city.  Around fifteen thousand of them are signed up to run in the Little Rock Marathon which is scheduled to be held tomorrow.  

I insert the weasel word "scheduled" for the reason that, naturally, by six o'clock tomorrow morning Central Arkansas will be under yet another winter storm warning.  According to the National Weather Service, at the very minimum the participants and volunteers can expect rain, or even more amusing, a thunderstorm at the start.  The winter precipitation, in whatever form it winds up gracing the event, is predicted to start around noon or so.

Today's high was 70.  Tomorrow's low will be 18.

Welcome to Little Rock! 

Now, they could be completely wrong.  Their track record thus far this year ain't the greatest.  In January Entergy sent me a text in advance of the predicted ice storm advising me to prepare to be without power for a week and to lay in an extra supply of fat back, cordwood and whiskey.  We got a little ice but the worst of it stayed West of here.

Early last month, NWS predicted 7 inches of snow on a certain day.  Entergy was silent. A little stuff got in the trees which made for some great pictures.  But the roads were dry.  It was no big. And I think there was one other prediction that was overblown. I can't keep it all straight.

I used to do what is euphemistically referred to on ESPN Radio as "sports investing" back when I was in my thirties.  I dabbled only in basketball, a subject that in the abundant hubris with which I was infected during those days, days that were otherwise semi-filled with something approaching promise, I thought I knew a little about. 

I subscribed to what I then pompously referred to as "The Hot Team Theory" as if it were both a law of nature and that it originated with me.  The "theory," simply put, is that you "ride" (as the knowledgeable sports investor puts it) the team from a decent conference on a serious roll going into the NCAA tournament.  

And I did OK with that.

By now, Gentle Reader is probably asking, "Well, this is fascinating but what the Hell has this got to do with anything?"

And the answer is this.  

I am now in my dotage.  I am burned out, completely beaten down by life itself and suspicious of the possibility of sustained continuity in virtually any aspect of human endeavor.  

Apart from the eternal suckinage of the Cubs that is. Lordy, even the Saints got good. But then again, the Cubs are accursed by God.  That's a different deal altogether. 

But the Weather Service, unlike the Cubs, and contrary to their recent track record, is bound to get one right during this awful winter of 2013-2014.  I have inherited my poor Mother's grim view of life. And she would have predicted that an ice storm would strike this weekend. 

"What are you doing this weekend Son?" she might have asked.

"Going over to take pictures at the Marathon Mom," I might have said.

"Now Paulie Boy you be careful.  You never know when an ice storm may hit a major sporting event." 

So once again, welcome to Little Rock, all you Marathon folks! Home of wild temperature changes, howling wind, freezing rain in March and my paranoid notion, now that I subscribe to something that might be called the "Opposite of the Hot Team Theory," that the Weather Service may actually be right this time.  

Which is not good for y'all.  

Did I mention the major seismic fault line that runs close by?

Never mind. That can keep. I never told Mother about that, come to think of it. 

Anyway,y'all have enough on your plate for tomorrow.