Stealing Magnolias, Among Other Things, . . . .

I admit it.  I am not above stealing.  And I have the record to prove it.  Beyond that unfortunate shoplifting incident of 1975, though, I've stolen all kinds of things, from ideas to bad jokes. 

Still, I'm almost embarrassed about this latest larceny I'm about to commit.  It's no grand larceny.  Not by a long shot.  But what I'm about to steal does possess a format that holds some appeal on this not-so-overly snowy day we're in.

Thank God the librarian in me still has a decent streak, though.  And so, I give a nod to Steve Sipple, Lincoln Journal-Star sports writer, whose format I am stealing.  The fact that everything he writes is set up in this "things I know and things I think I know" format does sully its shine a bit, but I'm not proud--another thing Steve and I apparently share.   So, here it goes, following this alleged snowstorm that was supposed to have shut down so much of Lincoln today.

Things I Know and Things I Think I Know
By Jane Holt

•Twenty-first century technology is a joke, at least in comparison to Mother Nature. 
I'm pretty sure that, in her generous moments, Mother Nature pities the fools who draw up those storm models, nudging her flaky brood south when we are certain she'll send those flakes northward. After my initial disappointment in her unwillingness to obey the Internet gods, a new-found respect for the old lady bubbled up from within me. 

•Ken Dewey was the most popular man on Facebook this week.  
My former meteorology professor, who kind of looks like a wonderful Muppet character and has the brain power of Spock, was the go-to man on Facebook this week, doling out his predictions and sexy, colorful maps like a drug lord hands out bricks of pure Mexican.  A humble man, I imagine that, in the midst of all that adulation,  there were moments when Dewey considered running for governor of Nebraska.  I, for one, would have embraced such a decision.

•Nothing beats a real eye in the sky.
I spent so much time online this week, feasting on various weather models, that I worried I had  come down with the first documented case of digital bulimia.  And, when this morning finally arrived--dry as a 68-year-old woman--I felt hungover and a tad regretful at all the time I'd spent with those electronic hussies, so full of empty promises were they.  By the time the snow finally started, though,  I was reminded of the power of first-person observations, heartened to know that I didn't need to feed on the prognostications of strangers and could, in fact, count on my own orbs to do the job, thank you.

•Hope is a crazy companion.
Crazy?  Yes.  But hope is always desirable, too.  And, while my usually wise friend Pete warned me in church last Sunday not to attach myself to things--even hope in a bleak weather model,--I damned his torpedoes and hoped away anyway.  And I was glad I did!  Even after shoveling a piddling 2.5 inches of snow from my drive this afternoon, I was heartened by the hope that bubbled up from within.  After all, some of the weather models still showed churning bands of heavy snow groaning their way through Lincoln long after sunset. 

And what's not to love about that?!