What, No Snow Day?

My wife is an educator and, come winter, is seriously crazy about following the weather for the purposes of discovering the perfect convergence of snow/sleet/ice/cold and a school day.  This ideal scenario means, of course, a snow day.  She only works part time so the quest to find this meeting of the weather and the educational system has even more significance than it would were she to work full time, as there are fewer days on which it might happen.

I have some of the same feelings, I admit.  A snow day makes me feel like a kid.  That feeling of another day in the old classroom, suddenly turned into a day romping through the drifts of white, now that’s something to celebrate.  Having my own children these days, I get to experience a little of that all over again.  Plus, I get to do some romping now and again myself.

My wife, however, gets way more excited than I do.  This is a reflection, perhaps, of my own surliness.  Or maybe I just have a little bit less hope, or I hate to get disappointed if it does not happen.  In any case, she keeps me up on the latest.

This morning had real potential to be a snow day.  It started snowing last night and was falling heavily this morning.  The forecast was somewhat squirrely, so it had been continually updated over the past week as a couple of systems converged on us.  As of last night, it looked good for some poor travel.  Poor travel conditions are the key element to the snow day.  School gets cancelled if it seems unsafe for buses to make their way along the slippery roads.

Not only the severity of a storm has to be right but the timing has to be right.  If the roads can get cleared in time, well, forget missing a day of school.  It was seriously a tough call for those school administrators I am sure.  I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes.  If you cancel school, some parent complains that it was fine and their little Einstein missed another day of fractions.  If you don’t cancel school, some parent complains that their kid had to risk his neck just for another day of fractions.  Not an easy business.

You might have guessed by now that we did not have a snow day today.  Frankly, that isn’t a terrible thing for me.  Making up a snow day is big fat hassle.  That doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy it.  It just puts a thorn in my tender side.  My wife, as you can imagine, was not exactly thrilled about this.  She even got a tad grumpy, but don’t tell her I said so.  Every school in the state, except for a few here in Chittenden County, was closed.  Apparently, they like to play it safe, while here in Chittenden County feel the need to risk a bus full of children in a ditch to keep the moaners at bay.

Don’t get me wrong, we have some stellar bus drivers around these parts, and I would trust them to make safety a priority.  It’s just that, couldn’t we have a snow day?  That would be so much more fun.  My wife certainly thinks so.  I am not home at the moment and I need to travel to get there.  It is snowing, ice covers the car.  It is slick as a booger rag.  But even if it were 6:00 am, I am sure schools around here would still be open.  Too many little Einsteins to educate.

Back in the Saddle

So today I hurried back to the grind of working a job after a couple weeks of holiday vacation.  It was, as they say in the taciturn parts of this state, not a bad thing to be off for so long.  While it wasn’t bad to get started again, I hopped into the saddle with some trepidation.

I don’t mean trepidation as in “It’s been so long I am a little scared I won’t know what to do or where to go.”  I mean it more in the “Dang it is awfully nice not to have to work for someone else or really to have to work at all and boy wouldn’t it be great if I could keep all this material greatness and quit the day job?” sense.  That is the kind of trepidation I mean.

One of my New Year’s resolutions was to fit one long, uncommonly uttered word into just a few sentences of something more than one person will read at least three times.  Check that off my list.  If we can jump to the meta-cognition level here, when except over the holidays, when I can sleep in until 7:30 (7:30!) for three days straight, would I ever have the idea encompassed in the previous sentence?  See what I mean?  Not working means thinking deep thoughts, thoughts that can only come when one truly relaxes.

Alas, I was back to the work thing today.  I did watch it snow from the warm side of the window.  That was, and I’m not afraid of being called effeminate or even (heavens!) a pansy if I use the word, lovely.  Then I drove home on the icy and slippery asphalt, hands clenched on the wheel, sweating in the down jacket I both didn’t need and forgot to take off in my haste to get to the post office, slowly.

The saddle in which I returned my physical self was metaphorical, of course.  I’m no wrangler.  I’m no jockey.  I can’t even really call myself a desk jockey anymore, although I did spend way too much time sitting today.  My saddle was a chair in this case.  At the end of the day I rode off into the screen saver sunset, bouncing along peacefully on the pneumatic riser of the padded office seat.  It was a lovely way to end the day.  And a lovely way to start the week.

Wretched Driving

I’ve done some driving in bad conditions. More than once I have driven in weather so bad that I stopped driving to spend the night in the middle of wherever. I have seen snow on the road.

Driving from Connecticut to Maine one time the visibility was so poor we couldn’t see the road and had to spend the night at a random hotel. Before I moved to Burlington we spent a day apartment hunting in a snowstorm. The drive back from the queen city was a slow slog on the interstate with swirling snow and cars off the road. A long drive.

Yesterday I drove from Milton to Hinesburg. That was not a speedy drive. I left later than I had planned. Get a little more work in, you’ve been there, no? I was in a windowless room, so I had no cues to how the weather had become so fierce. The snow was heavy on the car when I brushed it off and packed on the roads.

I made two stops before I hit the interstate, so I had time to consider whether I should even take the interstate. Would it be better to travel on roads where others would drive more slowly? Or should I just take the most direct route? Popping in for toilet paper (stocking up for the storm!) then filling the tank with gas (and getting a warm cup of decaf) I decided to go for the big road.

It was some of the most dreadful driving I have encountered, pretty much ever. It is not a drive for which I would have opted if I were leaving home rather than heading toward it. The worst moment of my journey last night was on a bridge, a semi passing me on the left and whooshing a cloud of snow so dense I could just see my hood. When I could see a little more clearly I was way too close to the guardrail.

I moved over soon enough.

When I finally exited that four lane highway, slowly, behind another (or perhaps the same) semi, a car too close behind me, on the icy exit ramp, I was somewhat relieved. Then I had to navigate traffic. To travel about two miles on Dorset Street took me at least an hour. I was passing the mall, along with all that other strip development, and it was the final Friday before Christmas, but still, those traffic lights slowed me down lots. The keystone light on Kennedy Drive must have cycled red and green twenty times before I drove through it.

I did make it home. The car was coated in ice and snow. I was too hot (I had to keep the heater blasting to keep the windshield from icing–it was 7 degrees out there!). I needed to take a leak. I was hungry. It was dark and late after a long work day. But I was home to a warm house and a beautiful wife and some smiling children and pizza hot from the oven.

I ran the gauntlet, and the reward was great. It is enough to make this man happy. Last night, the snow falling heavily through the darkness, I slept well. And in the morning, the snow kept falling.

Snow Still Falling in the Morning

Snow Still Falling in the Morning

CTD

That is the way I felt a couple of nights ago.  As I spent some time preparing details for my school trip the next morning, my gut started to speak to me.  It wasn’t providing a soliloquy on the merits of the meager dinner I had just consumed.  It wasn’t philosophizing on my eating habits.  It was poking me with a stick and shouting obscenities.

After I went to bed I did not stay in it long.  I rolled around and rolled around.  Eventually I was up and emptying my innards.  I got to know the plumbing fixtures, at least one of them, quite well.  We had some conversations, the toilet and I;  first I made some rather loud utterances, then it responded with a rather consistent flushing sound response.  It was civil, if not gentlemanly.

I spent yesterday in a weak and achy stupor.  Wasn’t that a good time.  It gave me time to reflect on how healthy it is to purge one’s system occasionally.  I was purged.  I was as empty as I could get.  My painful belly gave me pause.  Was I about to continue this process?  Or was I just hungry?  It turns out I was hungry.

I was not alone in my experience.  My wife and my son enjoyed the fine winter evening as well, out of bed often to check out the night’s wonders.  They, too, enjoyed the benefit of indoor plumbing.  My daughter did not have quite the same experience, but she was a witness, even crying in distress at one point, wondering if we would all be OK.

That next day we all stayed home, although my daughter never did get sick.  Lucky her.  She might as well have taken the bus, but neither of her parents would have been up for collecting her were her body to opt for the purging plan.  She was fine today as well, it turns out.  She is a healthy bugger, even without the cleansing.

Today I was home again.  As late as 2:00 I debated whether I should keep a meeting I had set for 5:00, but it wasn’t going to happen.  Too dizzy.  I still don’t feel 100%, after a day rest that included a two-hour nap, although I feel like I should fake it a little so my wife doesn’t think I am a total wuss.  Food has helped.  Lots of water has helped.  Hopefully another night’s sleep will do the trick.  I can’t miss another day of work.  It is way too much of a hassle to miss even one, and I’ve got three missed days under my belt this month with last week’s snow day.

No more circling the drain for me.  I am rising to the top now.  Soon I will swimming about, flush with health.  So to speak.

Snow Day Tomorrow?

I have been watching the weather closely today.  Supposedly we are getting a big storm.  It will start snowing some time tonight.  It was forecast to have started snowing by 4:00.  Didn’t happen.  Now the National Weather Service says it will start by 7:00.  That is right about now.  All the predictions say we are looking at half a foot of snow.  I hope so.

Problem is, I am scheduled to work at a high school tomorrow.  If we get a snow day, or even a delay, I need to reschedule.  That won’t be simple.  Every day the rest of this month is booked for me.  So I have the classic dilemma.  On one hand, lots of snow means poor driving which means (potentially) no school tomorrow which, as noted, will be a pain the snowplow.  On the other hand, it could be a snow day.  I mean, no school.  How great is that?

OK, the down side of the snow day thing and the excitement of no school is that I still have to work.  I have plenty to do and I will need to do it, even if I take a break to sled with the children for a bit.  But still, no school.  Sleeping in a little.  Making a snowman.  Hot chocolate after getting cold and frosty.  That is plain old good stuff.

I look forward to waking up and seeing what we’ve got.  I will be checking my school’s web site first thing.  My curiosity will keep me from sleeping in after all.  I’ll crank up the fire and sip an espresso drink and get down to work while my wife takes the children outside.  Or, if the storm fizzles, I will head to school.  I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad.

But we might have a snow day.  Yeah baby.

Fire in the Stove

When I was growing up we had a wood stove to heat our house.  Mostly, this was an economical choice.  It was a lot less expensive to burn wood than oil, especially in our old house with its old furnace.  It got me hooked, however, not just for its penny-wise benefits, but for the heat it produces and the process it requires.

Back in the day we would get a truck load of logs delivered to the house and prep it all summer.  A full-sized logging truck would back down the driveway and unload with the claw.  I remember raising the power line to the house with a long board (safety first!) so the truck would fit under it.  Then we had a pile of logs to cut.

At first my dad did it all, but then I was allowed to help out.  I used the chain saw at some point and I definitely helped split once we had stove length pieces.  We borrowed a homemade log splitter from John Coile, one the tallest men I have ever met, and spent days busting them into logs that would fit into the stove.

We then, of course, had to stack it in the wood shed, rotating through the dry stuff from the previous year.  It was, indeed, a lot of work.  And we still had to start and maintain the fire once winter came.  It saved us money, sure, but I enjoyed all that work.  I learned to love to split wood.  And I learned how to start a fire and keep one going.  Now, married and with my own children, we have a stove and we keep it fired up.

It does save money.  We might get a tank refill of propane that costs us as much as a cord of wood.  We save hundreds of dollars each winter.  I like that the resource is both local and renewable as well.  It produces more greenhouse gases from our house, but probably fewer if you account for extraction and transportation of fossil fuels.  What I really love, however, is the ritual if it all.

I love to rise early on a cold morning, the house chilly, the clouds low, and crank up a fire.  I love to sit next to the stove with a book.  I love to feed the stove, carry in wood, split logs into kindling.  It is more work than turning the thermostat dial, but not all good things come easy.  I have no expectations that heating with wood is simple or takes little labor.  It is a task.  I emptied the ash bucket for the first time this winter, for example.  I had forgotten about that task.  Even that, however, helps us build compost when I dump the ashes on the compost pile.

We have a fire in the stove right now and I sit next to it as I write.  We have enough kindling and firewood indoors to start a fire tomorrow.  We will be warm when we head to bed and the house will cool as we sleep.  When we are gone during the day tomorrow, the propane will kick in.  I can live with that.  When I get home after a day of work away, I will pile up some wood and take a match to it.  Then I will warm my back and know that we will stay toasty, even in the worst of weather.

First Troublesome Snow

White Out

White Out

We woke this morning to snow on the ground.  It fell in squalls as we readied for the day.  It was snowing when we walked out to meet the bus.  It was snowing when I took my son to school.  It snowed so hard and so fast, in fact, that not only was it difficult to see but it was difficult to drive.

Halfway through our ten-mile drive, we had to turn around.  First, we stopped because everyone one else had stopped.  Then everyone else turned around.  We were at the steep hill and, having slipped a few times, and having seen others slip, I thought it would be prudent to follow the crowd.

I am glad we did.  Cars were sliding all over the place.  It was treacherous.  I watched a few near accidents as we took the long way.  We were late but unsmashed.  Eventually, after leaving him to learn about stars, I stopped driving and got some work done.

It snowed throughout the day, sometimes quite heavily.  It was what my daughter called “a kind of small blizzard” when the bus dropped her off in the afternoon.  As it got dark she went outside with her mother and brother to sled on the thin snow that had gathered on the hill.  It wasn’t much but they managed to slide down anyway.

Drivers will be more cautious now.  Road crews will get out faster.  The first blast of snow seems to always get everyone in gear for winter driving.  That first blast was today.  It was beautiful all day.  I look forward to more.

Driving Around Here

When I was in high school I drove to school.  Not at first, of course.  My parents, in their ever-giving way as parents, drove me to school.  I couldn’t take the bus.  There wasn’t one.  So they drove me and eventually, at least some of the time, I drove myself.  It was a typical commute for someone in Connecticut, less than an hour.  Traffic was always a concern.

Today I drove to a school at which I work a few days each month.  I drove 28 miles each way.  It took about 40 minutes to get there this morning.  I encountered some traffic but nothing worth noting, at least for me.  I stopped at some traffic lights, went the speed limit on the Interstate, and generally kept moving the whole way.  No big deal.

I do encounter delays some days.  If there happens to be an accident in the right place at the right time, traffic can get snarled.  One morning I was an hour or so late getting to this same school and I had to go a long way around to get back.  My drive home took hours, but that was unusual.

The volume of traffic is way higher than when I first moved to this area.  Driving always seemed to be easy, even at the busiest times on the busiest roads.   My wife points this out regularly.  Having grown up here, she has seen the change.  Even since the days we first began to spend time together in her adult years, there are many more cars on the road.  Her typical questions:  “Where did all these people come from?  And where do they all live?”

The thing is, this is nothing.  I remember listening to traffic reports on my high school commute.  Would traffic on the bridge over the Connecticut River on Interstate 91 be slow?  Should we take the other route?  Should we leave a little earlier?  Could we expect to be on time?  Accidents, or at least breakdowns, were common.  There were a lot of people and a lot of cars, and we didn’t even travel through Hartford.  That was busy.

But the roads are getting busy around here.  When I drive north past Burlington during peak commuting time, cars line the highway southbound waiting to exit toward Vermont’s largest city.  It gets crowded.  We have pretty crappy public transportation, partly because of the still somewhat rural nature of the surrounding communities.  The backed up roads seem a good reason to invest in public transportation.  Rail lines already exist in many areas in northwest Vermont, but there is only one commuter train to speak of.

I don’t mind the driving, knowing that it could be a lot worse.  It did used to be much smoother to get around in a car, but I won’t complain.  If it gets so bad that I feel I need to complain, then I need to make sure I am taking action to make a difference.  I don’t know that I can swing commuting on a bicycle 28 miles and still help the kids get to school in the morning, but if I get it together I could travel to other places by bike.  I am working at home tomorrow, so that helps a little.

Really I would rather take the train, or even the bus, but until that happens I will add to the general melee.  I will be one of those about whom people who grew up here wonder.  “Where do all these people come from?” they might ask.  “And why is that guy smiling in all this traffic?”

A Few New Things

I attended our annual meeting for the organization for whom I work today.  I came home with a few new things.  I wrote yesterday about the awesome umbrella I received last year as a company gift.  This year we each got a canvas LL Bean bag with the company logo on it.  Not bad.

I use these types of bags all the time.  We got a couple of large ones many years back and they come with us everywhere.  They have carried groceries, beach toys, old and new clothing, library books, ski boots, freshly picked garden vegetables, a computer printer, lunch, jugs of water, whatever.  They are my favorite bags.

I once got a smaller one from my bank.  They were giving them away for opening new accounts.  I already had an account but I wanted one of those bags.  The bank teller told me I could have one when she saw me eyeing it.  That is a benefit to living in a small town.  Of course, not long after, the bank merged and changed its name and logo.  Maybe that makes it a collector’s item?

Anyway, this new bag from today (crisp and clean so far) has slightly longer handles, great for tossing over a shoulder.  I will use it lots.  But that is not all I got.

I have been working there for five years so I got to hear my name announced and go up on stage and get a little gift bag and shake the hands of the president and the VP’s.  The VP of my department even gave me a hug.  That wasn’t weird or anything, as one might suspect.  I genuinely appreciated it.  The gift bag had some goodies in it.

First, there was the mug–stainless steel with (of course) the logo and my initials engraved on one side.  I had previously told the folks in HR that I did not want a mug unless it was high quality.  I have way too many of travel mugs kicking around and another one I will not use unless it is bomber.  I think this one is close enough.  It isn’t the vacuum insulation I was told it would be but heck, it should work fine.

I also got a key chain with the logo (are you catching on to how important the marketing piece is here?) and my initials and “five years of service” printed on the flip side.  That was unexpected and a nice touch.  I am not sure where I will use a key chain (I hate a lot of crap dangling from my key ring; in fact I have all my keys on a mini carabiner so I can take one off at a time easily) but it was nice touch.

Finally, I got a bonus vacation day.  That will get used for sure.  I may even get an extra week of vacation since I have been there for five years, but I won’t count on that until I look it up and confirm it.

I carried my mug and my keychain and my little note from the top brass home in my canvas bag.  That worked out well.  It would have been harder if I had reached five years last year.  An umbrella doesn’t make a great carrying case for much, and certainly for not a stainless steel mug.

Umbrella

Exactly a year ago I got a new umbrella.  It was a gift from the organization that provides my employment.  it bears that organization’s logo.  How nice, I thought at the time, this might come in handy.  Then I stuck it in the closet.

These days, it does come in handy.  This morning, for example, I used it.  We walked as a family out to meet the bus.  We have a long driveway and the walk is a great way for us to start the day.  It is a ritual I like to be part of as often as I can.  Today the rain was just dumping down.  So we used the umbrella.

It is a golf umbrella, with no metal struts or stays.  It is lightweight.  And it is big.  The wind blew and the rain came down, but it protected us well.  If I had not received this umbrella we likely would have thought that we needed one for our daily walk to the meet the bus, but we would not have purchased such a good one.

We would have purchased something smaller, weaker and simpler.  It would probably have been cute or brightly colored but it would not have been nearly as functional.  This one works like a charm and looks sharp as well.  It was a fine gift.  It gets a lot of use.  I am glad I have it.

Tomorrow we have our annual meeting to review the organization’s standing and direction.  It will be a day to mingle and maybe learn a few things and even have some fun.  And I imagine we will get some employee gift.  The umbrella will be hard to top but I have high hopes.  One year we got coolers and mine gets used regularly.  So the track record here is spot on (OK, the exception was the car emergency kit, which was a great idea but contained a plastic bag of drinking water, just in case one of us happened to go off the road in the winter and need some ice).

I foresee we will receive a practical gift, one that will get used rather than tossed in a closet.  But even then, I can always pull it back out, right?