Readers, I know you are wondering, did I survive the great blizzard of 2010, the sixth worst in NYC history, that just dumped 20 or more inches of snow in the New York area?
If you've known me more than five minutes you know that I was born and bred in the sweaty, hot South. I consider 65 degrees a cold temperature, and there is nothing I have been dreading more for the last four months than the first big snow in New Jersey.
I was so thankful it wasn't a white Christmas. I thought we were off the hook. I even uttered the words on Christmas Eve, "it's not that cold," while standing outside in the afternoon sun.
Then Sunday came. I caught wind that a blizzard was on it's way. I canceled plans to go to The City for dinner. I saw the flakes start to fall around noon. I cursed the Northeast and the foolishness of all who live here.
I paced around the apartment, frequently and obsessively peering out the windows to see the ground disappearing under a blanket of white. With not even a hint of envy, I watched neighbor kids with cardboard boxes slide down the hill outside our door.
At nightfall, I was disturbed by how everything took on an eerie glow. The wind was literally howling outside. Snow kept falling and blowing and covering the street and cars and bushes and buildings. I went to bed wondering if it was even safe to sleep during such inclement weather.
Imagine my horror when I opened the door Monday morning to find this:
Now how does one go to work in these conditions? This had actually never happened to me, where I had intentions of going somewhere but was snowed in. I was in a panic. What should we do?
Thankfully, C.J. was born and bred in the frozen tundra called South Dakota. I was so pleased to discover that his winter survival skills are still strong. If not for him, I would still be huddling in the apartment.
Since the road was plowed, day care was open and I wanted to put in an appearance at the office, my sturdy husband lost no time trudging out in the snow and digging out our car.
Brave, brave soul. You go ahead, honey, I'll stay here and watch the baby.
Our car before (I was not present for this picture)
Our car after. Note the fresh trail also dug in the snow. He is good at this!
So that part wasn't so hard, with my personal human snow plow, but was it foolish to try to drive in this? Again, my cool-headed husband thought nothing of it while I nearly hyperventilated in the passenger seat as we made our way through the neighborhood.
The narrow, treacherous passage formerly known as our street
A neighbor clearing the sidewalk. I've never seen one of these, it's a snow mower!
At several points, like when we had to break through a small shelf of snow at an intersection and when we saw a car sliding down a hill I said, "Forget it! Let's go back! I don't need to go to work, it's just advertising!"
I was pretty certain we were going to get trapped in a snow bank and freeze to death, and I said so through a few tears. Then I begged C.J. to please drive to Texas immediately, we could just abandon all our things and come back in the summer to collect them.
After a little more hysterical babbling on my part, and more calm, focused, slow driving on C.J.'s part, we made it to my work with no problems. My poor co-workers (who incidentally seem unfazed) had to then suffer through a dramatic recap of my morning and my complete disdain for all things winter.
Finally, I sat down at my desk and got some work done. Then C.J. came and picked me up at dark, and we made it home without incident. And this is how I have come to realize that life goes on with snow.
Although I was pretty disappointed this morning when I woke up and it's all still there. Mounds of it. Everywhere. The landscape is post-apocalyptic. Gray and sludgy in some areas and piled to freakish heights in others. Abandoned cars are still buried in impossibly large drifts of filthy, packed snow. Walkable and drivable space is reduced by half and people are fighting to make their way on sidewalks and streets.
I've been informed that it should last only four or five more months. I was hoping it would go away after a day, like it does in Texas.
P.S. C.J. would like to report that he rates our four-wheel drive Volvo at five stars in the winter driving performance category. I also give it five stars in the heated seats category. We've decided the wagon was a good choice, even if it does hurt our reputation in our former truck-driving circles.
P.S.S. I am so glad I bought that bloated down coat and the shapeless winter boots. I get it now.
