Snow Days
Hating snow is like hating puppies. A blanket of white can make it tough to get where you want to go, and a puppy may not want to walk your direction, but in the end both take you places worth going. After a week of snow, ice and cold, Seattlites are beginning to run a cabin fever, but I say Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow.
We heard talk of snow for days before we saw any, so much talk in fact that people were pissed at the local weathermen. We're usually pissed at the weathermen. This town of microclimates and convergence zones makes precipitation prediction unlikely. The weather men hedge their bets with compound sentences whose complexity underscores their dishonesty: "partly cloudy with sun breaks," or, areas of "low pressure backed by areas of high pressure." So when the weathermen started using sensationalist terms like "Arctic Blast" and "December Freeze," we listened. Some school districts were so frightened they canceled schools Wednesday without a flake of snow. That's a lot of fuming parents home with their kids.
But really, who can predict the weather? I was glad for the surprise we woke to Thursday morning. I could tell by the light coming into our bedroom, that a blanket of snow awaited me on the other side of the blinds. I happily slept a while longer, knowing that my coworkers would be uniformly late, and at the last reasonable moment, put on my hiking boots and warm clothes and started walking to work. Normally I put on my suit and hop on the bus, but not on snow days. The bus is a mess on snow days - no fault of Metro's, it's the snow pushing people out of their routine. For some people this is a joyful change and for others a nightmare. I've been on the bus with the latter folks and now I skip that experience. More room for them on the bus.
Instead I walk four and a half miles from our home in Magnolia to my office downtown. Under normal circumstances, it's not a very pretty walk along a busy street (15th), but the snow hides the ugly. With just a few cars on the road, and the pavement covered fluffy white, it's easy to forget about traffic and timelines. The cold temps and snow make me feel like I'm walking through Whistler village, not on my way to work at all, but on my way to have breakfast before getting on a chair lift.
By the time I'm halfway to my office, my boss calls to let me know the office will be officially closed for the day, but I'm enjoying my walk and have things to do at work, so I decide to keep going. Besides, on the way in, I'd already dropped off our puppy Matia at doggy day care, and didn't want to pull her away yet from her playtime with all the other dogs. After an hour and 15 minutes of walking, I was at work, in the locker room changing into the suit I keep there for special occasions like this.
About half of my coworkers were there. The mood was festive: another thing I love about snow days. The snow's novelty, beauty and element of danger had us all buzzing. Most of my regular work (software development) meetings had been canceled, so I got to catch up on my environmental work: projects that are officially sanctioned for my company, but that I do in a volunteer capacity on "my own" time. I noted the irony of extreme cold giving me time in my schedule to fight global warming.
By 2:00pm my coworkers and I had enough and started home. This time I only walked part of the way because my partner Bo had driven into work. Bo is brave. He consistently does things I wouldn't think of doing: like driving down our steep, icy hill, or pulling me out of the house on a cold winter's night to go cross town to a holiday party. His action is a good foil to my contemplation.
I spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the puppy and doing all of the stuff I love to do when I have a good excuse to stay indoors: write, play guitar, surf facebook, watch movies, procrastinate from doing: volunteer work, housework and (this time of year) decorating the Christmas tree. Friday morning was a repeat performance. The conditions were actually worse because the temperatures had dropped and frozen the streets and sidewalks, but my office was open and I duly hoofed it in my hiking boots.
Now we're a few days into this winter storm and the snow is falling again. The weather men are exuding a confident "I told you so" arrogance they so rarely get to display. Several friends are starting to strain from a little too much family time under one roof, but I love it.
This afternoon (Saturday), Bo, ever brave, drove across town to his gym, while I stayed home with Matia. I figured I could avoid venturing out into the cold by practicing yoga in our living room. Almost as soon as I stepped onto my yoga mat, Matia was in my business. She thinks it's hilarious to lick the one foot I happen to be standing on, or scoot underneath me while I'm doing Down Dog. She doesn't understand meditation, she just thinks I'm ready to play with her. Instead of being annoyed, I chuckle. Matia modifies my practice, making me fully present in the room, aware of the moment: the elusive goal of yoga that I usually miss.
Outside the snow falls. Bo gets home from the gym. He's brought some groceries to make a salad for the holiday party we're attending later this evening, in a home that we could walk to if we really had to. We'll see our friends tonight despite the snowstorm. Because of the snow we'll all be a little more grateful to see one another, a little more thankful to share a warm space and a cold drink. Because of the snow we'll all be a little more open to the wonder of this holiday season. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
We heard talk of snow for days before we saw any, so much talk in fact that people were pissed at the local weathermen. We're usually pissed at the weathermen. This town of microclimates and convergence zones makes precipitation prediction unlikely. The weather men hedge their bets with compound sentences whose complexity underscores their dishonesty: "partly cloudy with sun breaks," or, areas of "low pressure backed by areas of high pressure." So when the weathermen started using sensationalist terms like "Arctic Blast" and "December Freeze," we listened. Some school districts were so frightened they canceled schools Wednesday without a flake of snow. That's a lot of fuming parents home with their kids.
But really, who can predict the weather? I was glad for the surprise we woke to Thursday morning. I could tell by the light coming into our bedroom, that a blanket of snow awaited me on the other side of the blinds. I happily slept a while longer, knowing that my coworkers would be uniformly late, and at the last reasonable moment, put on my hiking boots and warm clothes and started walking to work. Normally I put on my suit and hop on the bus, but not on snow days. The bus is a mess on snow days - no fault of Metro's, it's the snow pushing people out of their routine. For some people this is a joyful change and for others a nightmare. I've been on the bus with the latter folks and now I skip that experience. More room for them on the bus.
Instead I walk four and a half miles from our home in Magnolia to my office downtown. Under normal circumstances, it's not a very pretty walk along a busy street (15th), but the snow hides the ugly. With just a few cars on the road, and the pavement covered fluffy white, it's easy to forget about traffic and timelines. The cold temps and snow make me feel like I'm walking through Whistler village, not on my way to work at all, but on my way to have breakfast before getting on a chair lift.
By the time I'm halfway to my office, my boss calls to let me know the office will be officially closed for the day, but I'm enjoying my walk and have things to do at work, so I decide to keep going. Besides, on the way in, I'd already dropped off our puppy Matia at doggy day care, and didn't want to pull her away yet from her playtime with all the other dogs. After an hour and 15 minutes of walking, I was at work, in the locker room changing into the suit I keep there for special occasions like this.
About half of my coworkers were there. The mood was festive: another thing I love about snow days. The snow's novelty, beauty and element of danger had us all buzzing. Most of my regular work (software development) meetings had been canceled, so I got to catch up on my environmental work: projects that are officially sanctioned for my company, but that I do in a volunteer capacity on "my own" time. I noted the irony of extreme cold giving me time in my schedule to fight global warming.
By 2:00pm my coworkers and I had enough and started home. This time I only walked part of the way because my partner Bo had driven into work. Bo is brave. He consistently does things I wouldn't think of doing: like driving down our steep, icy hill, or pulling me out of the house on a cold winter's night to go cross town to a holiday party. His action is a good foil to my contemplation.
I spent the rest of the afternoon playing with the puppy and doing all of the stuff I love to do when I have a good excuse to stay indoors: write, play guitar, surf facebook, watch movies, procrastinate from doing: volunteer work, housework and (this time of year) decorating the Christmas tree. Friday morning was a repeat performance. The conditions were actually worse because the temperatures had dropped and frozen the streets and sidewalks, but my office was open and I duly hoofed it in my hiking boots.
Now we're a few days into this winter storm and the snow is falling again. The weather men are exuding a confident "I told you so" arrogance they so rarely get to display. Several friends are starting to strain from a little too much family time under one roof, but I love it.
This afternoon (Saturday), Bo, ever brave, drove across town to his gym, while I stayed home with Matia. I figured I could avoid venturing out into the cold by practicing yoga in our living room. Almost as soon as I stepped onto my yoga mat, Matia was in my business. She thinks it's hilarious to lick the one foot I happen to be standing on, or scoot underneath me while I'm doing Down Dog. She doesn't understand meditation, she just thinks I'm ready to play with her. Instead of being annoyed, I chuckle. Matia modifies my practice, making me fully present in the room, aware of the moment: the elusive goal of yoga that I usually miss.
Outside the snow falls. Bo gets home from the gym. He's brought some groceries to make a salad for the holiday party we're attending later this evening, in a home that we could walk to if we really had to. We'll see our friends tonight despite the snowstorm. Because of the snow we'll all be a little more grateful to see one another, a little more thankful to share a warm space and a cold drink. Because of the snow we'll all be a little more open to the wonder of this holiday season. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
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