My snow day

 

The patio, looking pretty bleak

2:00 a.m. The smoke alarm over my bed begins to beep. Each beep alarms Sophie, and she is not reassured by my words,  nor will she come to me. She’s too busy tilting at – smoke alarms. I lie awake, listening for the next beep.

3:00 a.m. Sophie finally decides barking at the alarm does no good and goes off somewhere to sleep.

5:00 a.m. – Sophie needs to go out. My computer tells me it is 10 degrees. There is a light dusting of snow on the ground. The smoke alarm is still beeping. I go back to bed.

7:45 a.m.- Sophie wants the first half of her breakfast and to go out again. It is 11 degrees, and there is a lot more snow. I go back to bed.

9:00 a.m. – Sophie wants the second half of her breakfast. I no longer care about the temperature—I know it is cold—and I can see the snow. I discover there is no hot water. I am up for the day.

9:45 a.m. Jordan comes to give Sophie a shot and takes down the smoke alarm. It continues to beep until she figures out how to dislodge the battery. We discover the TV is out, but the internet is working—praise be. I remind Jordan that she has long said if Sophie barked frantically, they would hear it and come running. “We didn’t hear it,” she says. So much for that.

10:00 a.m. My dinner guest cancels for fear of icy roads.

3:00 p.m. I get a much needed nap. Sophie, asleep, refuses my offers to go out, and I am afraid she’ll wake me.

5:00 p.m. Sophie and I wake up. I feed her, and she goes outside.

5:30 p.m. Jordan and I have wine and eat the last of the cheese ball from Christmas. The cottage is almost comfortable. I have on a sweater, a blanket over my knees, and a heater right behind my chair.

8:30 p.m.  I have eaten the chili Jordan brought me and am thinking longingly of my warm bed. The cottage is getting cool again.

 

Good night, all. I can hardly wait for Wednesday’s thaw.

The joy of a snow day

I was unprepared for snow today. I’d heard vague references to a light dusting on the weather report, but I didn’t take it seriously. In fact, I went to bed still debating whether to go to the grocery today or tomorrow. The white world that greeted me was sort of an executive decision from above. I would stay home all day. That "light dusting" came down much of the morning, sometimes heavily, sometimes little tiny flakes you could barely see. The streets, at least major, weren’t too bad but getting across the front porch and down the driveway are the challenges.

So I dug in and did a lot of things around the house I’d been putting off—including the first yoga I’ve done in seven weeks, since I broke that bone in my foot. I suppose that was part laziness because I could have done some poses with the orthopedic shoes. I regretted my folly this morning because my regular routine wore me out, some places didn’t bend like they should, some poses were downright difficult. It was fun to do in my sunroom with windows all around so I could watch the snow. But it’s also difficult to do yoga in full sweats—and too cold in that window room to take off the heavy clothes.

A flurry of excitement around noon—false rumor that Jacob would get out of school at noon. True time was 2:25 but his grandparents, who were to come get him, decided against it—for good reason (they live 30-45 minutes away). Jordan decreed I was not to leave the house, a decree I willingly obeyed, so she commandeered someone from her office with four-wheel drive to bring her to the school. Tomorrow is still up in the air—no school, so I imagine I’ll get him early in the morning. I have tentatively cancelled my plans for tomorrow but will try to go to the grocery in the late afternoon. High today of 22 isn’t going to melt anything—but 37 tomorrow and 61 Saturday.

I thought often today of my childhood in Chicago with deep snow, sledding, ice skating, and not letting a bit of ice and snow stop our world. I don’t remember school ever being cancelled but I suppose it probably was.  And then I spent several years in northern Missouri where the roads iced into ruts into which my VW didn’t fit. I remember looking out the window and thinking if I could just wake up one morning and not see dirty gray snow. We lived in a small town where people still used coal, and the snow got really nasty. But I was younger then and less fearful of falling.

In Fort Worth, the world is cancelled for an inch of snow. My church closed, as did several others. National TV programming was pre-empted all morning by “storm” coverage, and the highways were blocked by long lines and wrecked cars. The national news even mentioned the mess in Texas over not that much snow. No thaw tonight, but the streets look pretty good.

I spent much of the morning thinking of the errands and outdoor chores I’d have done yesterday if I’d taken seriously the mention of a possible dusting of light snow. This is more than a dusting, but at least it won’t melt and refreeze overnight. And I won’t whine and complain when I watch news clips from the northeast. Now if I can just get down the driveway tomorrow!