With all of the school closings that I’ve been hearing about today (although not in the DC metro area), I can’t help but feel all warm and squishy on the inside with the thought of snow days of past. Growing up in the middle of a corn field in Upstate NY rewarded me with plenty of days off on account of the snow (although much fewer than the DC Metro area, since Upstate NY’ers know how to drive). There were some days when the school bus would come to a dangerous, side-sliding stop 15 yards from my driveway due to the thick sheet of ice on the road. Minor detail.
When My Sista and I were young, snow days were an invitation to build a snowman, or trudge through the woods with our red flying discs looking for the steepest hill within a 1 mile radius. I was always the one lagging behind the rest of the group complaining about something. Have you ever seen “A Christmas Story”? Well, it is one of my all time favorite movies, partly because I can really identify with Ralphie’s little brother, Randy. All bundled up, falling behind, and whining to high Heaven about it. Man alive, I was a fantastic complainer!
As we got older, however, school closings were just a reason to sleep in and be lazy. Sort of like playing hooky from work nowadays, only without the guilt of playing hooky from work. I never do that though. My guilt complex is far too large for that.
In New York, when the snow came, there were arsenals of snow plows lined up on the highways and byways just waiting for the first flake to fall. They were like horses at the starting gate. Dogs pacing at the door to go outside and pee. Me at Thanksgiving/Christmas/insert holiday feast waiting for the mashed potatoes. You get the idea. They were ready. The state highway employees would literally sleep wait in their trucks on the side of the road until the snow came. Once that first flake fell, it didn’t have a hope in the world. It was cursed from birth. Can you imagine being an innocent little snowflake, minding your own business, when out of nowhere, THIS comes at you doing 55mph?!
That snow plow means business! That snow plow is not to be messed with! That snow plow scares me! The snow knows better, too. Just look it–gads of snow, retreating, fearing for their little snowflake lives!
This next one is a portrait of beauty. Someone loves this snowplow so much that they Photoshopped it. Good lordy bigordy do they ever love this snow plow!
I always want to see snow on Christmas. There is just something fantastically ethereal about waking up on Christmas morning to see a fresh dusting of snow on the ground. In light of that feeling, I always spend Christmas Eve channeling my Native American heritage (I’m sure I could find one if I shook my family tree vigorously enough), by doing my little snow dance. I’m not exaggerating.
When the snow arrives (as it always does because I am a stellar snow dancer), I immediately dread my decision to get back to my roots. Since living in Maryland, I mostly wish for snow only until it gets here. I like the idea of Maryland snow, but I hate the reality of Maryland snow. Maryland snow is an absolute nightmare to deal with. Snow is not fun in Maryland! Snow is a curse in Maryland! Maryland snow that arrives on a weekday between the hours of 12-5PM causes me to have to sit in my car for 5 HOURS, just to drive 7 miles! Maryland snow is not my friend! Maryland is not prepared for snow whatsoever. I curse out my car window at the incompetent snow plow drivers. They just laugh at me as they stare, mesmerized by the falling snow.
This is a Maryland snowplow driver.
I’m not exaggerating.
