2003
Snowed In!
Remember how I wished for snow?
Yesterday morning it snowed lovely little flurry flakes, a powered-sugar dusting just for Christmas. Then the sun came out and the mercury rose to an unusually warm 50 degress and everything melted and the grass was brown and swampy.
And then at about 7 p.m. last night, it really started coming down. Big fat flakes. Angry flakes with devilish grins. This morning when I woke up, everything was covered. According to trusty Doppler radar, we’re only in the middle of the blizzard, and we already have 15 inches on our lawn. Fifteen!!! I don’t think it’s ever snowed so much so quickly in my lifetime. The driveway and sidewalks have already been plowed and shoveled three times in the last three hours and they’re completely covered again. TV is showing nothing but storm coverage. We’re setting all kinds of records here. I just wish I could enjoy it.
I’ve accepted the fact that I’m pretty much stranded here. Not only stranded in the house, but stranded in Salt Lake. See, we’re supposed to fly home tonight. We still might, but right now it’s not looking too good. At this point, I’d almost rather stay here than trust that the air traffic controllers and pilots aren’t just pushing their luck and crossing their fingers when they say we’re “clear for takeoff.” For starters, I don’t fly well when it’s clear and sunny. I have to get all drugged up and fidget with little metal puzzles to keep my mind off the fact that I am voluntarily putting myself in a tiny metal tube that will go hurtling through the sky at 500 mph. A small part of the fear is motion sickness, but the biggest factor is the psychological trauma I inflict upon myself. I am paranoid beyond belief that I’m going to die in a tragic accident way before my time, so airplanes are understandably one of my least favorite modes of transportation. (Yes, I know I’m more likely to die in a car wreck that a plane crash, but I’m also more likely to survive a car wreck than a plane crash, so there.) When I’m on a plane, every bump, every noise, every smell, every ding of the fasten seatbelt sign makes my heart race like it’s trying to win a championship derby. Heavy snow–one of the heaviest in Salt Lake’s recorded weather history–is not going to make this better. I am not a happy snow bunny.
The final straw is that Ethan and his mom have been going on and on all week about how they hope we get snowed in so we can stay until Monday. This makes me furious because I really need to get back home to Berkeley. Not only have I taken way more than my alotted vacation days from work, but (1) our needy kitten is being babysat by someone who hardly ever plays with her and always forgets to give her clean water and (2) I am going to be swamped with freelance work and regular work work come Monday, and I want to be home Saturday and Sunday to prepare for it. I don’t want to undo two weeks’ worth of relaxing by getting home late Monday night and having to wake up early Tuesday and be bombarded with projects and dirty looks from my coworkers for having been gone so long. But all of that aside, we’ve been here for two weeks. TWO WEEKS. That’s plenty. Don’t get me wrong–I love being home, but I have responsibilities back in California that I need to take care of. Ethan has his responsibilities too, even though he’s understandably trying to avoid them since they involve preparing for oral exams in May (that means reading about 300 books in the next four months). It just makes me fume to think he and his mom are doing the dance of joy right now. I know she doesn’t respect that I need to get home, but he really should.
I think I need to go cool off in a big pile of snow. I don’t think I’m capable of making an angel right now, though.
2003
Vintage Christmas
In an effort to beat the day-after-Christmas blues, I’m taking a trip down memory lane to Christmases past, and you’re invited.
1979
For my first winter, Dad made me a snowman, which I promptly devoured.
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1980 and 1982
These were taken during my super-cute phase.
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1980 and 1984
We made many things other than snowmen on our front lawn. My mom is all kinds of creative. (The second one was actually not made during winter, but in April!)
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1985
This is proof that my trendy-cool phase happened when I was about six and a half. Check out that charm necklace!
1985
Luckily, I wasn’t too cool to wear homemade matching pjs.
1986
This year still stands as one of the best Christmases ever because of these three things:
1987 and 1988
Every year my mom drew a scene onto our front window and then we got to paint it. I told you she was creative.
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1990
You can do a lot of things in the San Francisco Bay Area, but building a snow fort with your brother is not one of them.
2003
Home for the Holidays, Part III
I really have to stop with the play-by-play if I’m ever going to cover all the events of the last week and a half, so now, without further ado–and in no particular order–I present to you The List:
(For #1 and #2, see here and here.)
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #3: Grooving to the band at Kimberly’s wedding. They rocked the cazbah.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #4: Snow! (And lots of it!)
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #5: Going to the movies with my mom and grandma.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #6: Having an honest to goodness “Ya Ya” shopping day with my mom, during which we bought matching rings for $2.99 a piece.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #7: Lots and lots of ice skating on tv.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #8: Making fun of Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring to the delight of the fam. *cough cough* bad editing *cough*
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #9: Having grapefruit and fudge for breakfast, courtesy of Ethan’s mom, after spending the night at his house under a new down comforter packed with crinkly goodness.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #10: Visiting pals Jason and Bob. Even though I had to sit through one excruciatingly boring level of Halo, Jason–bless him–made me a pizza and singlehandedly saved me from starving to death right there in his living room. He did not, however, mind that I might die of boredom.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #11: Not wearing a bra while talking to the neighbors from two houses down whom I grew up with but haven’t seen in years and years.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #12: Visiting Jared and Kim and seeing they have not only been doing well in the last six months since their wedding, but they have actually become quite the little well-matched couple. We also met Lucy, their Shetland kitten (miniature variety), and partook of a warm cocktail that looked a whole lot like Pepto Bismol (which in my case was actually a plus).
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #13: Having homemade bean and ham soup for three meals a day.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #14: Vegging out with Gatorade and a box of Trix while watching 70s and 80s videos that my brother and I have an unnatural attachment to. They include The Frog Prince, The Christmas Toy, Family Band, The Last Flight of Noah’s Ark, The Chipmunks’ Christmas Special, and The Smurfs’ Christmas Special. In the coming days we have to do the mondern classics, like The Muppet’s Christmas Carol and The Nightmare Before Christmas. But I really can’t go back to CA until I’ve seen Cinderrabbit for the 132nd time.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #15: Finding squishy purple yarn to knit a squishy purple scarf with.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #16: Filet minon.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #17: A ski date with Ethan, during which I earned major Tuff Grrrl points by inflicting upon myself a gnarly lip injury. Rawr! (Pictures to come!)
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #18: Realizing that the new Christmas tree isn’t so bad after all. (You have to see pictures of this to believe it.)
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #19: Anticipating the traditional Danish Christmas Eve dinner, when we’ll find out the sex of my cousin’s first baby (my paternal grandma’s first great-grandchild). I am super excited about this.
Wonderful Moment of the Trip #20: Watching a home movie of Christmas 1984. Man, was I annoying. The funniest thing about the tape was realizing that we still have most of the stuff we got that year, including a 13″ tv, an electric organ, a cool movie-set-style lamp, two homemade Cabbage Patch dolls, a gag-gift gas mask, a jewelery box, and a girly sweatshirt given to my dad by his mother, who always gives him girly clothes. One thing that fortunately didn’t survive the last nineteen years was my mom’s mullet.
