Growing up in Northeastern, OH, I know snow. Everything like the Lake Effect, ice slides, moist & dense & heavy snows… bursting water lines. Salt & chains as a part of every morning, coffee-drinking conversations to sprinkle the talk of road safety.

Schools shut down for a day, maybe two, days at a time.

Generators need to be purchased…

Firewood stocked.

Snowball fights abound in the Ohio countryside.

That was my Ohio upbringing.

Later in life, I moved to Montana. And dear Readers, when it decided to snowstorm throughout that wonderful state, it not only White-Out STORMED, it blew the cold-hell blowing of winds that convinced you a God was real. And, on that day, that week, that month – He was pissed off at something!

Now, I’m in North Carolina. As of this writing – what is going on right now – there is a winter snowstorm going on.

RIGHTY!

A snowstorm!

From someone that came from Ohio, and lived in Montana… this is no storm.

If anything, it’s just another January winter day in Ohio.

No buildings are caving-in upon themselves from the weight of snow. No one is freezing to death on the streets, in the alley devoted to the homeless. No frost bites. No shivering & starvation, with flurries freezing to eyelashes.

This is no Storm of the Century terror of white-shit accumulation. It is just SNOWING.

My Special Lady Friend, Tara, has four large, 18-month-old puppies – Pyrenees. They are the size of teenage polar bears! No joke! As far as the canine categories go, they are a large breed. And they are supposed to be protectors – especially during the night.

But is that what has happened since this snow has been falling?

Oh, no.

They have been puppies. Rolling in the powder. Barking at nothing. Wrestling with one another. They have been fun to watch.

Ms. Tara is calling them her “Polar Wolves,” which I, stupidly, tried to correct.

“Don’t you mean Arctic Wolves? Or North American Wolf,” I chimed in, trying to pretend to be intelligent.

She was doing her hair, at the time. Looking in the mirror, spraying sweet-smelling spray into her wonderful long strand of hair. Brushing & straitening it.

“No. Polar Wolves,” she corrected.

There was no point in arguing.

We have Polar Wolves…

And the South has no idea what a Blizzard REALLY is.