is blasting New York this weekend. We’ve haven’t left the apartment much, since I don’t enjoy strands of my hair whipping into my contact lenses. Or looking like a hurricane victim.
Anyhoo, the scene: Yesterday, Joy looking out the window, watching every branch on a large green ash tree shake wildly, says “I bet those winds are at least 50 miles an hour.”
Brendan: “No way, that’s maybe 25.”
Joy flips on NY1, the round-the-clock TV station, and the announcer says “wind gusts between 50 and 60 mph. Watch for falling tree branches.”
Joy celebrates being correct.