May Lightning Strike This Post

It’s raining right now in Northern Virginia, which is merely a sign of things to come. By nightfall, Tropical Depression Ernesto will have descended upon the region, largely decimated of all his strength, bringing with him enough rain to fill a paper cup and strong winds that will shake even the boldest…stop sign…slightly.

Yeah, while it is a blessing to not live anywhere that really receives the extremes of Mother Nature’s wrath, sometimes it’s nice to see the fireworks the meteorological matron is capable of. Snow rarely tops a foot in a storm, the rain may flood out some minor bridges and lowlands every now and then, but the strongest Hurricanes to visit Washington is when Carolina skates against the Capitals. When violent weather happens so rarely in this region, you kind of want to see what a storm is capable of.

We here at YAB mean no disrespect to those who have seen Mother Nature from the front row. However, in this area of the country, when gale-force mayhem occurs so infrequently, losing power is kind of, well, cool. Not because the loss of a basic utility is fun, but just because in DC, it’s kind of harmless. And like when it snows, a loss in power is comical in that my fellow Beltwayans (not to be confused with the Scary Movie Bros.) freak out in high comedy. When H-cane Isabelle rolled up I-95 in September 2004, it had dwindled to hair dryer speed winds, and rather than having to board up windows, Spud and I tried to see how far we could get through a game of Madden without the power blocking our proverbial field goal.

You see? DC weather = harmless.

However, today we type not to mock Mother Nature, but rather to investigate her. After all, she’s the moodiest dame I know. Everyone instantly attributes all things precipitation to the lady, and no one’s actually met her. Have you? Yeah, thought not.

There’s so many questions we need to ask her. So Mother Nature, if you’re reading, feel free to post your answers in form of the comments. (I don’t know if you have a Blogger account, so if there’s an anonymous comment, we’ll just assume that’s you. K, Ma?)

1. Okay, so your official title, Ms. Nature, is “Mother.” While it may be a nickname, we are inclined to believe that you have it because you have children. Who are they? Why haven’t we heard of them? Did they take of the family business? That makes sense to me if they did. After all, if you don’t mind me questioning a woman’s age, you’ve been around since, well, the dawn of time. You’re probably tired. Why not put your son Nick in charge of dry spells, or maybe little Joey at the helm of monsoons? (Note: In hindsight, Nick Nature sounds like a professional wrestler. As a result, Joey’s probably the favored son.) However, Ma would have to be pretty disappointed if her kids decided to go outside the family business. Mother Nature? Her son’s an accountant in Wichita? Never!
2. Much like a pimp, isn't it getting hard out there for a working single mother? Surely, we’ve never heard of a Father Nature. Did she have to raise those kids on her own, while monitoring and implementing our global weather system? Either Father Nature’s a terrible father and far from the family breadwinner, or Mother Nature kept her maiden name when she married into another family? Perhaps her beau is Father Time?
3. Is watching the Weather Channel the complete ego trip we think it is?