I'm dreaming of a.........Snow Day
I grew up in the Great White North. No, not the one Bob & Doug are from where everyone says "eh" and drinks Labatts. Just a tad further south. But not much. Winters growing up were rife with anticipation of snow days. I remember waking up extra early on those days praying for a miracle. Anticipation turned to sheer joy when we heard our school called off. Sometimes we would use our foulest curse words (at eight, probably dammit.........my favorite one still today) when we heard we had late start.
I never understood why snow days were met with great disdain by the grownups in my life. By the time I was old enough to understand, my family had moved further south, where snow days still occasionally happened, but only rarely.
After I graduated from college, I moved just outside of the Twin Cities. For those unfamiliar, this area makes the long harkened "Frozen Tundra" look balmy. My first winter there I managed to get into work during those snow days, and began to get it. "Snow Days" meant more work for grown-ups. It meant waking up at 2:30 in the morning to wade in hip deep snow to the car to make sure the engine was plugged in. It meant shoveling snow that was whirling so madly the effort was futile. It meant nasty, cold yet sweaty work that left you so worn out you needed a nap by the time you had to head in to start your day. Assuming you could still feel all your toes and fingers, that is.
I remember one especially blustery day that long, cold winter the unthinkable happened. Minnesota Highway Patrol closed every single road I took due to dangerous driving conditions. At the age of 25 I was old enough to understand this took miracles. Acts of God, Congress.........not nearly strong enough. We were talking miracles. I felt like a kid again as I strapped on my cross-country skis and set out to enjoy my snow day. I skied a 1/2 mile to the nearest Cub, bought cocoa, schnapps and beer and skied back home to enjoy a lazy, snowy day of movies and napping on the couch. I believed in Santa again that day, and my heart was light.
Today I am dreaming of one of those lazily blissful days. I would dearly love to enjoy a day trapped inside in front of a warm, roaring fire with my loved ones nearby. The kids would squeal with delight watching the snow fall, and Mr. Chaos and I would snuggle while we sip on Baileys & coffee.
*sigh* As you can see by my location, it wouldn't take much. Trust me, a half inch of snowfall would render the entire state shutdown. Alas, the odds of me getting a Pepsi in a local restaurant are probably better. (Did I ever mention I live in Coca-Cola country?)
C'mon Santa, it wouldn't take much. I haven't called in a favor since that cold blustery day almost 10 years ago. I've been exceptionally good. Let me feel like a kid again one last time and play the day away in the snow.
Pretty please? It's all I want for Christmas.
I never understood why snow days were met with great disdain by the grownups in my life. By the time I was old enough to understand, my family had moved further south, where snow days still occasionally happened, but only rarely.
After I graduated from college, I moved just outside of the Twin Cities. For those unfamiliar, this area makes the long harkened "Frozen Tundra" look balmy. My first winter there I managed to get into work during those snow days, and began to get it. "Snow Days" meant more work for grown-ups. It meant waking up at 2:30 in the morning to wade in hip deep snow to the car to make sure the engine was plugged in. It meant shoveling snow that was whirling so madly the effort was futile. It meant nasty, cold yet sweaty work that left you so worn out you needed a nap by the time you had to head in to start your day. Assuming you could still feel all your toes and fingers, that is.
I remember one especially blustery day that long, cold winter the unthinkable happened. Minnesota Highway Patrol closed every single road I took due to dangerous driving conditions. At the age of 25 I was old enough to understand this took miracles. Acts of God, Congress.........not nearly strong enough. We were talking miracles. I felt like a kid again as I strapped on my cross-country skis and set out to enjoy my snow day. I skied a 1/2 mile to the nearest Cub, bought cocoa, schnapps and beer and skied back home to enjoy a lazy, snowy day of movies and napping on the couch. I believed in Santa again that day, and my heart was light.
Today I am dreaming of one of those lazily blissful days. I would dearly love to enjoy a day trapped inside in front of a warm, roaring fire with my loved ones nearby. The kids would squeal with delight watching the snow fall, and Mr. Chaos and I would snuggle while we sip on Baileys & coffee.
*sigh* As you can see by my location, it wouldn't take much. Trust me, a half inch of snowfall would render the entire state shutdown. Alas, the odds of me getting a Pepsi in a local restaurant are probably better. (Did I ever mention I live in Coca-Cola country?)
C'mon Santa, it wouldn't take much. I haven't called in a favor since that cold blustery day almost 10 years ago. I've been exceptionally good. Let me feel like a kid again one last time and play the day away in the snow.
Pretty please? It's all I want for Christmas.
