It snowed last weekend. It snowed last night. And today, as the boys (home because school was canceled) trashed the house, they posted a winter storm watch for this weekend. Said "watch" is likely to be upgraded to a warning soon. There is a 400% chance of snow with potential for "paralyzing" accumulations around DC, along the lines of what we had in December.
Crippling I can probably handle. But paralyzing?
Be careful what you wish for.
Is this what it's like to live in Upstate New York, where the lake-effect snows dominate the winter weather? I knew a guy who moved up there with a Pontiac (remember Pontiac?) Firebird, but promptly bought a Chevy Citation to drive in the winter. (In addition to the Firebird, of course. Chicks don't dig Citations.)
I can see the wisdom of buying a beater car if you're gonna do a lot of snow driving. And this year, we are feeling lucky to own two 4x4s. Normally way overkill, we're certainly putting them to use this year. But if this snow keeps up and we retain the snowpack, I might have to buy me one of these:
Among its many features, it's "designed for ease in getting in and out and has an "angled back rest for passenger comfort." I'm sure you agree these are both things worth looking for when choosing a dogsled. I mean, doesn't it look comfy? Of course I doubt my lard-ass dog could pull it if loaded to its full capacity of one adult and one or two children. Not to mention, that's not even my whole family. We'd have to make two trips. That would probably kill the dog. Which would certainly eliminate that pesky dog-hair tumbleweed problem in my house...
I digress.
All this snow reminds me of the winter of 1996. I was pregnant for the first time with baby Bubta and was closely following all doctor's orders, including to drink lots of milk. (Which may partially explain the 50 pounds I gained that pregnancy. That, and the Wendy's Frostees.) Well,we failed to plan and ran out of milk, and I went into freak-out mode. WHAT IF I CAN'T DRINK MILK FOR TWO DAYS? WHAT ABOUT THE BABY??!
No doubt in an effort to shut me up, Soup Husband Curt strapped on his cross-country skis and a backpack and set off across the back yard, destination the 7-Eleven around the corner, half a mile away. (This was pre-4x4. We had a wee Honda Civic hatchback then, and it was not snow-worthy.) My hero!
Well, he didn't even make it to the street before the deep, heavy snow caused his bindings to break. He left the skis in a snowdrift and continued hiking on over to 7-Eleven and scored the last half-gallon of milk in the joint. On the way back, he had to help some lady who, walking, became stuck in a snowdrift. No, I don't know how that happens, either.
Hopefully, we won't be looking at that scenario again, where the only way to get around is by sled or ski or snoeshoe or foot. Plus, I'm pretty sure if I did send Curt out for emergency provisions, it would be for a bottle box of red wine instead of a half-gallon of milk. Unless the kids wanted milk, of course.
