Dear Kid,

The weather forecasters are predicting snow.

A lot of snow. Many airlines canceled flights more than 24 hours in advance of possible white stuff. (Yes, ridiculous.)

People are rushing hither and thither laying in provisions for the impending storm. Milk? Check. Bread? Check. Toilet paper? Check.

My first question is: Didn’t you people think you’d need those things even if there wasn’t a snow storm? What is it about snow that causes you to drink more moo and carb out?

I turned to My Friend the Internet for help, and you’ll never believe what I learned.

It has snowed before.

Seriously.

It has even stormed before.

This is not a once in a lifetime event!

You’d never know that from the way people are behaving, but ‘tis true.

Way back in The Day (and by “The Day” I mean days the 1800s and before) people frequently died during snow storms. This may have been because people got caught in the storm, or because no one had invented handwarmers. But it’s probably because they didn’t have enough milk and bread.

In more recent years, deaths by snow storm have gone down considerably. This is partly because we’re better at forecasting (which mostly just shows how bad forecasting used to be) and because we have indoor heat. But mostly because we don’t have a toilet paper shortage.

So if the white death hits, stay warm, stay safe, wear your hat and mittens, and—most importantly—be sure you have enough milk and bread.

Love, Mom

Another good way to stay warm is to share DearKidLoveMom.com.

Dear Kid,

This is exactly what it doesn’t look like outside.

Which is weird because it’s the middle of December and it’s supposed to be cold.

But Mother Nature is a fickle lady, and we might set a record in Cincinnati for the warmest December 23^rd in the History of the Universe. (Or at least since the weather service started keeping records.)

Mother Nature is not human. We know this because A) she’s older than telephones and B) she keeps looking younger and younger in her pictures. That either makes her a witch or Grandma. Or both.

Mother Nature has always had her portraits drawn to depict her as a gentle, loving, flower-draped young maiden. However, (as far as we can tell) she is gentle only when she chooses to be. At other times she is downright cold and nasty. This is either because A) she’s Persephone’s mother and gets sad when Persephone is away or B) she was Mrs. Joe Neanderthal’s neighbor for a while and learned from the best. Or both.

Ms. Nature and Mrs. Joe Neanderthal had a love-hate relationship from the very start. We’re not sure from the start of what or when the start actually was (there were no timekeeping officials back then). The Start however was quickly followed by The Middle and has yet to reach The End.

The problem seems to have stemmed from Ms. N’s jealousy of Mrs. J. N’s furs (she grew them herself. On herself) and Mrs. J. N’s jealousy of Ms. N’s ability to make severe snow storms.

The love part was that both of them appreciated a good bit of gossip and a good cup of coffee over which to exchange or invent the news. (Coffee hadn’t been invented then, but that didn’t stop them. These were not women to whom one would want to walk up and say, “Excuse me, you seem to be drinking something that you call coffee, but coffee hasn’t actually been invented yet, so you might want to rename that beverage.”)

I told you having temperature this warm at this time of year is weird.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

It’s winter.

I know this because the temperature inside our house is negative 6 zillion.

It’s not nearly that cold outside, but somehow our house has the ability to exaggerate temperature. I have no idea where it learned how to exaggerate, since no one who lives here would ever, ever consider even the slightest overstatement.

Think our thermometer can’t register that low? You’re probably right. Perhaps it’s only 4 zillion below zero. Once you get to a certain point, cold is just cold.

I am writing this from underneath 4 blankets and a dog, and I’m drinking a cup of tea. (“Not coffee?” No, it’s a tea sort of night.) The tea is nice and warm. The dog is nice and warm, but not really large enough to share a great deal of warmth. On the plus side, he’s snoring, which is adorable and warms my heart.

Back to tea.

You’ve heard the phrase “I wouldn’t do that for all the tea in China”? Apparently it’s a phrase that is no longer in general usage, but that will not (of course) stop me from asking My Friend the Internet to explain exactly how much “all the tea in China” actually is.

According to Wired, China produces 855,190 metric tons of tea leaf annually. If you’re more concerned about the value rather than the tonnage, Wired figures that is about $1,590,653,400. So basically more than you’re ever going to make in year. Ever. (I have no idea when Wired calculated that, but even if prices have gone down it’s still more than you’ll earn in a year.)

One might not do something for all the tea in China, and right now I’m pretty sure I couldn’t get warm with all the tea in China.

I have no idea how I’m going to survive when actual cold weather gets here.

In the meantime, I’m going to find mittens. And start a small fire right here in my blanket-fort.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Have you ever looked at something fairly ordinary and thought, “That is the best thing EVER! That is the type of thing that could make an entire alien race notice us!”?

I feel that way about really good brownies (the fudgy kind, not the cakey kind) and my rain boots.

I love my rain boots. Not because they fall into the “gorgeous shoes” category (they are NOT gorgeous shoes), but because they keep my toes dry.

There is something entirely luxurious about walking wading through puddles and having dry feet when you get wherever it is you’re going.

In southwest Ohio, it doesn’t rain men, it doesn’t rain candy (does it disappoint you to learn that song lyrics are not always factual?), it rains water. And sometimes hail. But mostly water.

This summer it’s raining a lot of water.

I’d like it to rain less (sunshine, where ARE you??) but as long as it’s raining, I’ve got my rain boots.

Stay dry sweetie.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

It occurred to me that someday you might be in a situation where you need to know the speed of the wind and not have a wind-speed measuring device handy.

This is not a subject we spent a lot of time on when you were a tot. You were much more interested in learning to rollerblade and search for bad guys than in learning about wind.

At the time, I rationalized that it was a temporary oversight and we’d get to weather and wind speed study later, but somehow “later” never arrived. And here you are in college without a wind-speed measuring device and you have next to no idea how to figure out wind speed and obviously this is a huge hole in your education.

Therefore (and ergo), let us begin. You may want to take notes.

Observation is the key to understanding wind speed. For example, if the smoke from your campfire rises straight up, the leaves on the trees aren’t moving, and your mother is desperately searching for a fan because “there is no AIR,” it’s a good bet that there is very little wind (under 2 mph).

On the other hand, if houses are flying around in the air, you can be relatively certain that the wind is breaking the speed limit and it’s a good time to be underground lest you wind up with a pair of ruby slippers on your feet. (If you’re wondering how the ruby slippers would be big enough, the answer is “magic.”)

Estimating wind speed between “Can someone please find some AIR” and “Take cover!!!” can be a little trickier. But there are several methods which I shall now explain (you’re welcome).

The first is the Applied Mathematics (because I like saying Applied Mathematics) Military Flag Method.

First find a flag that is hanging in the wind. If you don’t have a flag handy, this doesn’t work at all. And it needs to be a regular size flag. The little ones we got at the Memorial Day parades don’t count. Neither do the banners people hang on their doors to indicate the specific football team they live for.

Now that you’ve found the flag, look at it. Estimate the angle between the bottom of the flag and the flag pole. Divide the angle by 4. The result is wind speed in miles per hour.

Fascinating, no?

However, sometimes we find ourselves in situations without a handy flag. Enter the Beaufort Method.

Sir Francis Beaufort was an admiral in the British Navy. To the best of my knowledge he was never the subject of a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, and since he didn’t have to go around singing patter songs, he had plenty of time to think about wind.

Here are his rules:

• If the flag is not moving at all, the wind speed is below 11 mph.
• If it flaps lightly and sporadically the wind is blowing at around 12 to 18 mph.
• If the flag is flapping over the whole length of the flag, it is blowing at around 19 to 24 mph.
• If the flag is partially extended and flaps quickly, the wind speed is 25 to 31 mph. A fully extended flag flapping hard in the wind means wind speed is around 32 to 37 mph.

Now you know.

Love, Mom