Bread, milk and eggs

Winter weather in the lands below the Mason-Dixon line is a mixed bag. We have everything from heat waves that rival Boca Raton to frigid snaps that make North Dakota seem balmy by comparison. When that Arctic blast happens, there isn't much between us and the North Pole but a bobware fence (that's barbed wire to you Damnyankees).

The favorite hobby of the allegedly educated meteorologists at these crucial moments is to see how much frenetic activity they can generate down to the local Wal-Mart or Piggly Wiggly.

The game is to mention the S-word and watch the panic ensue.

Snow in the South is a spectator sport. Since we don't see it that often, it's a chance to watch Bubba and Buford try out the new power winch they installed on their 4x4's over the Christmas break pull some over-confident Massachusetts driver out of the ditch on Newby Chapel Road.

Damnyankees feel like 'they know how to drive in the snow' and they overestimate both the speed and the road conditions that are in the South and wind up with their new Mercedes piled into Farmer Jones fence post and mailbox.

We who are the denizens of the Southland know that the appropriate response to the S-word is to run to the store and stock up on the "approved" shopping list and go home, hunker down and wait out the blizzard that Dan, Dan the Weatherman has predicted to befall us all.

I honestly believe weathermen own stock in dairies, poultry operations and bakeries because they encourage us to buy milk, bread and eggs to weather out the storm.

Who knew French Toast was survival food?

Southerners know that snow in any amount from a dusting to a fully measurable couple of inches means schools will be closed, businesses will reduce their hours and idiots will be out in full force to see just how much insurance is enough as they smash up their vehicles because "they didn't have the sense that God gave a piss ant to stay home like decent folks".

Southern snow is NOTHING like the blanket of Rocky Mountain snow that beckons skiers to the slopes of delight, wonder and broken bones. Southern snow is a hodgepodge of hard crystals, snowflakes and wet driblets that create a slick veneer on the roadside that makes used car salesmen appear grease free.

The combination of this mess and the natural decaying oils and tars on the roadway added to the joys of the now hidden potholes and divots that just never seem to get repaired means you'll have to get an alignment once it's declared safe to drive again.

Buses that normally transport children to school are declared unsafe on the roadways because the county school budget doesn't have enough money for the lawsuits that would ensue if Junior got bounced out of his seat when the bus went into a full skid at Tanner Crossroads.

So school is cancelled long before the first flake even forms in the sky, much less hits the ground.

There is nothing so satisfying as seeing a Damnyankee turn into an instantaneous tobacco chewing, overall wearing, cousin marrying redneck after a mishap in Alabama snow. It usually goes something like this: "Well, dang it if that ain't the slickest stuff I ever droved on in my life. I dee-clare it is slicker out there than snot on a doorknob and that cold just runs right through you. My Mercedes just slid all and the hell over Blackburn road and I like to have hit that tore up old target deer in Old Man Meredith's farmyard!"

Well, most certainly. The erudite among us TRIED to warn you. We made every attempt to tell you to keep your ass at home. But you knew best. Damnyankees always do.

We have a slight break in the great blizzard of 2010. Take this opportunity to run to "The Pig" and get your staples before the real storm hits later today.

And if by some chance, however slight, that the down home boys in the weather office made the weensy mistake of overestimating the effects of the storm, at least you know what you can make for dinner.

French toast is pretty good while you stand by the window holding your plate eating while you watch the snowflakes drift past and think about Alabama football.

Come to think of it, that sounds like a perfect winter day.