Furry Forecaster

I confess I haven't always been loyal to Punxatawney Phil. Year after year after year, it's always the same thing on Feb. 2. Six more stinkin' weeks of winter!

I don't feel the least bit guilty jumping on his bandwagon the year he actually predicts an early spring. Nope. Not in the least.

Though I wonder if that is the case today when perhaps he didn't see his shadow because the snowdrifts were too high to let in the sun?? And here's a question: When he doesn't see it and therefore can't claim "6 more weeks of winter" does that really mean it's an early spring or do we just assume that? What if it really means there are 7 or 8 more weeks instead of 6?

You gotta wonder. Especially this week.

The weird thing about this "historic" winter storm is that, knock on wood, we are unaffected. I have friends and family stretching from Madison down to Texas and all points in between who are suffering the wrath of this monster (as they call it on the Weather Channel). In fact, the school district just 20 miles south of us was closed today, too. But we somehow got on the safe edge of the line and got nothing.

I am quite relieved but in a way, a little bummed that we can't say we were part of the Big One.

But that feeling doesn't last long. I hear about all those power outages and see the forecast for temps and windchills well below zero and I am no longer envious. I go turn on my electric mattress pad and thank God it was the One that got away...

Hope you all survive the next "less than 6 weeks" of this! Happy Groundhog Day!