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Meet the Columnist

Columnist, Sheila Moss, is humor writer from  Tennessee. She writes  a weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny things that happen to everyone.

   She has written for  the Daily News of Kingsport,   Griffin Journal, Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton Advocate,  and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News Journal. She has been published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks at Guidepost Books.  Her articles have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.

    She is a former board member and past  Editor of  the Columnists.com, website of  the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern
Humorists.com
  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of HumorColumnist.com

    To carry her weekly column in your newspaper, or to republish an article, please contact her. It's that easy. 

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Could That Be Snow?....
   

Could That Be Snow?

hardware,households,shovels,snow shovels,snows,tools,weather"Severe weather warning" barked the TV. Beep, beep, beep, the weather warning rolled across the bottom of the screen, four to six inches of snow. I ignored it. That's what they said last time. Nothing happened - nada.

In the South, we have grown complacent. Oh, sure, the forecast is right once in a while, but just as often it is wrong. Not even the schools believe it now. Just last week school was canceled - for nothing - an entire snow day gone, and no snow.

When morning came this time, there were three inches not four. They were wrong, but not wrong enough. Three inches might as well be six. We don't know how to deal with snow in the South. Snow is a northern thing. This should be happening in Boston, New York, or Buffalo, not here.

For a moment it was almost beautiful as I looked out the window at the whiteness, a clean blanket covering the dead grass. The trees were alive again, covered with spring snow blossoms. Then I remembered, the streets are covered too. I can't go to work.

Snow crunching under my tires, the rear end of my car sliding around, crazy people trying to drive, spinning their wheels in the snow, going too fast on slick roads. No, I can't deal with it. I'm staying home. Southerners have no experience driving in snow. One more day at work isn't worth getting killed over.

But my grandchildren love it. My granddaughter runs in and out of house squealing, reveling in the unusual weather, nose running, cheeks red. Her wet mittens steam on the warm furnace vent as she takes a break to get warm.

My other daughter calls, her kids have snow saucers and are sledding on the perfect hill near their house. This afternoon they plan to build a snow woman - equal rights for snow people and all that, I suppose.

Dogs love it too. The dog frisks around, up and down like a worm in the drifts with whiskers full of fluffy stuff. Her feet are covered with snow, frozen to her fur like ice boots. She makes muddy track all over the kitchen floor then wriggles and squirms while I wash her paws. Silly dog needs snow boots.

My feet will not touch it, I think, except to make a picture, that is. I would like to have a picture. I'll use my cell phone, and I can email it to my computer. I make the ultimate sacrifice and go outside, careful not to slip. This stuff is impossible to walk in without sliding. I must be crazy. What if I fall and break a leg?

Back inside I email my picture. It didn't work. It's upside down no matter how I try to fix it. Oh, rats! Never use a new camera when it snows. So, I do it all over again. This time I'm careful about holding the camera phone right side up.

Pictures are great. I can enjoy the snow while staying warm inside. Hot chocolate, a fire in the fireplace, snow isn't so bad after all as long as it is outside and I'm inside.

I got enough of the cold stuff when I lived in Chicago. One winter it snowed in the fall and I didn't see the ground again until spring. But now I live the warm South were snow doesn't happen, or at least we like to pretend it doesn't.

The weather report comes on TV. The cold front has moved northeast. New York City is buried, worst snow they've seen in years. Snow belongs in the North. By tomorrow the snow will be melted here. No need to shovel. We just wait until it melts and things get back to normal.


Copyright 2011 Sheila Moss
 
 



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