I think I might have a bit of PTSD when it comes to snow in Seattle. It’s very hit-or-miss each year as to how much we get – one year, we might see a scant few flakes; the next, several inches for several days at a time, rendering the roads impassable and thus, shutting down the entire city. In our six-plus years here, we’ve experienced enough snow-related stress and drama to last a lifetime so at the first mention of it in the forecast, I start to feel a little panicky.
One year, it took me three hours to get home from work. That was nothing compared to the year it took Roth a staggering EIGHT hours to get home from work. Poor guy had to pee in his coffee cup, he’d been sitting in icy traffic so long. (That same year, our pipes froze.) One of our greatest fears is the power going out again, as it did in 2006. It was out for 24 hours that time (which was nothing in comparison to some neighboring cities that experienced the outage for five or more days). Our house got so cold without the use of the heater; I can’t imagine how we’d handle that same situation now that we have a kid. Snuggle-slumber party in our bed, I guess!
The snowstorm I remember the most, though, is the one that happened the night after Rowan was born. We woke up the next morning to an eerily silent city, completely blanketed in blinding white. My mom’s flight from California was one of the last before the airport closed, and our wing of the hospital was noticeably quiet and understaffed, as many nurses and doctors couldn’t make it in to work. (Some just had to sleep there until their next shift.)
When we were released from the hospital a day later, the sun was shining, but the driving conditions were still awful. Two buses slid down an icy hill, colliding into each other, and the wreck crashed through a guardrail, dangling the buses right over the freeway. That drive home with a two-day-old baby in the backseat was terrifying. Of course, we made it, but there was still so much snow (coming down and on the ground) for the next week that people couldn’t come visit us. Outside of taking Rowan to the pediatrician, we were housebound. Looking back, I’m fairly certain those conditions contributed greatly to what would eventually turn into post-partum depression.
So yeah, I think my feelings of trepidation toward snow are justified. So long as I don’t have to drive in it, the power stays on, and we have plenty of coffee, I’m cool to watch it from safety of my warm living room.
Thankfully, my work has a flexible inclement weather policy, which means if the office isn’t closed due to snow, I can work from home, rather than risk life and limb trying to get there. Yesterday was an official “snow day.” Both Roth’s and my office were closed, so we spent the day (mostly) inside, eating a breakfast of bacon and eggs, listening to bad dance music on the LMAFO channel, doing our taxes (hello, refund!), cleaning out the fridge, and baking a cake.
We came home from our holiday trip with a giant bag of Meyer lemons from my dad’s tree, probably 15-20 pounds’ worth. We’ve been trying to use them up over the last couple of weeks, but upon further inspection, it looks as though we’ve hardly made a dent in the bag. Luckily, we love lemon, and a snow day at home was a perfect excuse to bake a lemon curd layer cake, starting with the lemon curd, followed by the cakes, and topped off with lemony frosting.
It’s not the prettiest cake, but it’s one of the more indulgent desserts I’ve ever made. The lemon curd alone has a stick and a half of butter in it. But, calories consumed on a snow day totally don’t count, right? Right.
Yesterday was a lot of fun, just being home with my guys, and I’m quite impressed at how much we managed to accomplish in between all the eating of snacks and lounging on the couch. I mean, our taxes are done and filed! BOOM.
I fully expected to be back at work today, but the conditions have worsened since yesterday’s storm, as there is now new snow on top of a thick layer of ice on top of the old snow. And the snow hasn’t stopped since 8 a.m. This is when I start to get a little worried – and snow weary.
Perhaps it’s time to mix some vodka with all those lemons.