The French Toast is up

Adam has kicked the French Toast Alert up a notch and our meteorologists are in a tizzy: it's December and gosh darn it, it may snow!

Yes, it's part of our seasonal rites of passage. In spring, it's the crocuses, followed by the first (non-political) flip-flop sighting of summer. In the fall, it's the first leaf to imperceptibly change from green to brown.

And in winter, the community that averages 42-something inches of snow annually marks the occasion of the first flakes with a frenzy once only reserved for Red Sox victory parades.

There's something about this hype that leaves me a bit more cynical than usual as we await our Sunday fate:

Meteorologists are certain today that a nor’easter will develop off the mid-Atlantic coast and move northeast on Sunday. But the extent of the storm and whether it will actually hit New England are still -- pardon the expression -- up in the air.

Think about it for a second: we are in full battle mode over a storm that doesn't even exist yet, let alone on course for anywhere in particular.

Welcome to New England.