I'm presently hanging out at 36,000 feet or so, Portland bound.
Behind and below me, Minnesota is in the throes of the third Snowmageddon event of the year.
Each one has created a different sort of adventure for me. The first Great Big Snowstorm this year came unseasonably early, prompting a white-knuckled, low-speed trip to Hell Target, where I encountered every other parent who had not yet purchased boots for his or her child. We got the last pair of size 6 boots in any style or color and the last cute yellow hat. My children, who as children occasionally lack things like "common sense" and "nerves," paid me back for my valiant efforts by requesting that I take them sledding four times in two days. I'm working on regenerating the toes I lost that weekend. I'll keep you posted on progress.
The Epic Day-Before-Thanksgiving Travel-Stopping Blizzard-To-End-All-Blizzards of 2010 was a massive disappointment at my home. That's okay, because I wasn't at home. I was settling in for a ski trip with my kids on the North Shore of Lake Superior. We'd heard reports of an impending super-doomy storm, due to arrive at 4 o'clock on Wednesday. At 7 o'clock, nothing was on the radar. We decided to get dinner at the infamous Sven and Ole's, where we sat in a room that's looked exactly the same since 1970 and ate food that was possibly made in 1970. A few flakes were falling when we loaded into the car to drive the 22 miles back to Lutsen.
By the time we got out of the tiny town of Grand Marais and safely onto curvy lake-side cliffs, there was enough snow to make me nervously hum The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. I'm quite certain that it was my silent prayers, coupled with the gales-of-November jokes and abundant backseat driving, that kept Gitche Gumee from swallowing us whole that night. I was repaid for my heroics with a long weekend spent skiing with my children, which was difficult, as I'd lost all my toes sledding the weekend before.
Tonight's storm, however, was somewhat kinder. You see, it hit at the precise moment we left for the airport, which might sound like a bummer to you. It's not. We boarded on time, and only took off an hour and 20 minutes late, and in between, I got to watch them de-ice our plane. Dude. That machine is my new favorite thing on Earth. It looks like a robot-alien, all hard at work to make the all the little planes fly safely! So cute...
So, if you happen to be or to know Santa Claus, you might want to pass along that I'd really like a de-icing truck for Christmas*. If I've got to live on the tundra with no toes, it's only natural to want to spray large machines with green goo, isn't it?
*I would be totally content just to ride along in one, if Santa is too busy making Hex Bugs to build me my own de-icing rig in time for Christmas. Riding along in a Sno-Cat on the side of a ski hill would be an acceptable substitute, in a pinch.
**In the event that none of the above fantasies are possible, I would be content to receive a one-way ticket to Maui. Thanks, Santa.
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