We had big plans of spending our Saturday with Auntie Jess and cousin Will. We were going to have homemade pizza for lunch, dance around to Christmas records, and try to do a photo shoot for Grandma Myra's holiday card. But then winter showed up.
For years I commuted 72 miles each way to work. In five years, I missed perhaps 3 days due to weather: a remarkable feat, considering how close we are to Canada and therefore the artic circle (please don't correct my geography. I'm writing for effect, not accuracy). Sometimes I had to hold my breath and hope the road was under me; once, a semi jacknifed right in front of me, crossing into my lane before slamming into the ditch.
I was proud of this driving record: I could drive in anything, and I told my students as much repeatedly. As a college with 75% of the population living on-campus, this school NEVER closed for weather, and I didn't want them to get out of class because I chose to live far away. But in 72 miles, I had to drive through three counties, each of which viewed plowing differently (the middle one felt it was completely optional. All season). For a time, when I had a sweet Honda CRX, the floor had rusted through, so the only thing between me and the elements was a thin piece of carpet, which quickly soaked through and froze to my pantsleg during the winter drive. Every day was an adventure, and I had no cell phone, either. I imagine these are the stories I'll use to convince V she has it easy in about 12 years.
The daughter changed all that, of course. I'm no longer willing to take risks like I did when it was just me, and not much seems worth venturing away from our cave-like home. We have the luxury, of course, of not having to use outside childcare, though this means it can sometimes be days before V goes outside at all. This winter, I'm working to fix that, with big plans of boots and snowpeople and just plain winter shenanigans.
But today, our first big storm of the year, at most we'll venture to the backyard. Pizza with the Auntie and cousin will wait, while we adjust to our transformed landscape and snuggle up in front of the tree.
Any normal blogger would now post a lovely wintery photo to show you the aforementioned landscape, but I haven't gotten that far yet today, so instead you get this: proof that we encourage all kinds of bad habits. Right after this photo, she had a whiskey sour and a cigar while cursing the 18 year old age limit on casino gambling.
Stay warm, dear friends, and may all your scratch-offs be winners.