You: What rush?

Me: Thanks for asking. Maybe I should write a post called “I went grocery shopping a day early to avoid the rush.”

You: This post seems to be breaking the temporal prime directive in some way.

Me: You may be right. Okay, about the rush. On Tuesday, north Georgia is supposed to be getting three inches of snow.

You: Is that all?

Me: When I lived in a small town named Zion on the Illinois/Wisconsin border, we still had to go to work when we got three feet of snow. A mere three inches, I wouldn’t even notice. I did drive a Jeep with studded snow tires, but still, we just dealt with it.

You: So why are you worried about Georgia snow?

Me: Georgia snow freaks people out. It makes them all go to the grocery store and buy out all the bread and toilet paper. Nobody knows what they do with it because with several exceptions (1986 and 1993) the snow has little real impact and melts off the roads before a family of three can possibly consumer ten loaves of bread and a 55-gallon drum of milk.

You: Goodness gracious.

Me: Nobody says “goodness gracious” any more. When I checked out of the grocery store this morning, the cashier said. “Where’s your bread.” “I don’t need any bread.” “So what are you going to eat if you get snowed in for 35 minutes?” “Salad.” “Oh, you’re one of those people,” she said.

You: What did that mean?

Me: People in my neck of the woods are meat and potatoes people. They couldn’t tell the difference between a salad and yard clippings. Most of us out here have propane stoves, so if the power goes out for 35 minutes, we can still make a pot roast or venison steak with twice-baked potatoes. I did buy some stew beef. If a blizzard comes, beef stew turns into a comfort food.

You: Even if you Southern types freak out, at least you know how to eat well during the emergency.

Me: Yes we do.

—Malcolm

P.S. Click on my name, and you’ll see my website. I know you want to. And I know you know that if you don’t look at it, I’ll be really upset.