Because we have had a relatively warm and dry winter thus far, I had forgotten the rule of winter travel, which I learned every year as a child growing up in a mountain town in the hinterlands of the Poconos: Feel free to make travel plans, but be prepared to cancel them at a moment's notice. I should have known that even warm dry winters have blizzards up their sleeves, and that those blizzards often come on the very weekend on which one makes travel plans. The weatherweasels were still making noises about "tracking a probable snowstorm" when Lloyd and I went to bed last night, bags packed, boarding passes printed, dreams of falling asleep at the Parker House the next night dreamt.
At 6 a.m. the tune had been changed to "we're still tracking, but it looks like it's going to hit, and hit hard, on Saturday." Discuss, discuss, discuss. We decided that if the snow arrived on Saturday, the odds would be good that it would be all plowed off the runways at JFK, and off the roads between the airport and home, by Sunday afternoon. Besides, if the storm missed us, we'd feel like utter wusses for cancelling the trip for phantom snow. Woohoo! We're going to Boston!
By 7 a.m. the Weather Channel announced that this was the big one, and that if you had any traveling to do, do it today, because everything will be under a foot of snow by Sunday. Suddenly all visions of our lovely Valentine's Day weekend melted under a vision of our sleeping on plastic chairs at Logan Airport, or of landing at JFK only to find that the roads are treacherous and even the cabbies are sitting this one out. In the end, we decided that this scenario would be worse than staying at home while the storm bypassed us. Phone calls were made. We're still being charged for the car service (phooey) but we caught both our plane and hotel rezzer cutoff points in time to reschedule with no penalty (hooray).
I know that this is the sort of problem that one must have the luxury to have, and that millions of people have worse trouble in life than having to reschedule a weekend away. Nonetheless, I'm still disappointed, and not just a little. I'm actually surprised by how sad I am right now about our poor little weekend.
The good news is that I have two of the best mood elevators I know: I have a day off, and I have Lloyd. As I sat on the phone, waiting for the nice lady at Jet Blue to pick up my call, Lloyd mentioned that this movie, based on one of my favorite novels, is playing at the Angelika, which is conveniently situated near this nice lunch spot. I'm still trying to figure out what good deed I did in my past life to get Lloyd in this one.
So here we will be this weekend, watching the snow from our lumpy uncomfortable armchairs instead of from a hotel window. I wonder if I'll feel better if I bake something. 
not only that, but everyone will feel better if you bake something--and post it, of course.
hunker down.