"Dinner time is a precious commodity," a premise on which my brother and I were raised. Joe and I held onto the tradition in our own family, as well. Television was/is never on during dinner... well, with an occasional exception, such as the Super Bowl, or the Oscars, or last night.
My Peter-Pan-husband had complained all day long about the snow we did not have, as a good part of lower and coastal New York was being pummeled by a blizzard. Here in upstate New York, we had only a few inches... seemingly the trend for the past several years. Said "few inches" are considered to be a mere dusting in our neck of the proverbial woods.
The ultimate expression came during dinnertime, "I'll bet people are really pissed off at the freakin' weathermen for this false forecast... can you imagine... closing everything for THIS!?!" I glared at him, rather incredulously, and proceeded to break the TV Rule. To the Weather Channel went I, happening upon news of Staten Island. There, wind-driven, visibility-nullifying white stuff was still falling upon the dozen fresh inches, already on the ground. We then channel-surfed news that was monopolized by storm stories. Without a word, I looked at Joe. Ensuing laughter almost caused him to gag on a mouthful of whatever! He's forgiven Sam The Weatherman; and we remain in a...
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