Today My Favorite (Lack of) Color Is White

My stomach flipflops and my heart, while not pounding, does beat a little more quickly. A bit of panic underlies my state of complete excitement. Logic has flown out the window. Snow is on the way.

At this moment northern Virginia is my favorite place on earth. I have followed the snow and I’m so glad I did. I waffled on that decision for about 36 hours. It seemed somehow too self-indulgent to drive almost seven hours just to see snow. I was naturally coming to see the grandkids as well but I would only see them for Thursday night.

But then the rationalizing portion of my brain kicked in and I remembered a couple of things. I’m retired! And retirement exists for just this kind of thing. Plus this is not just an ordinary fluffy three inch snow. This is a storm! A monster! December 19th, the last big snow, was not only too close to Christmas but also it was Steve’s and my anniversary and I could hardly leave him then. And besides, Steve’s actually driving toward snow is never going to happen.

So I became a storm chaser.

And in the process I remembered why I so love snow in northern Virginia. Last night Cory and the kids took me out for pho, our favorite cold-weather food. Warms the soul.

Then we stopped by Safeway for, yeah, milk and bread. (I guess Cory was stocked up on toilet paper.) We walked and walked toward the store – no parking close last night – and stared at the empty space where the carts usually are. Cory said they must have moved them inside out of the weather. You know the answer to that one.

So we grabbed a small carry basket and plunged into the crowd. My smile grew as I looked around at the frantic shoppers and empty bread shelves. We made our way back to the dairy case and a small woman looked at Cory with panic in her eyes. “Can you please help me?” There were only three containers of milk left and they sat at the back of the shelves. The kids and I exchanged amazed looks as he pretty much crawled into the milk freezer.

Then this morning, I realized that I did not actually have enough food for the next six weeks. Because here, standing in the aisle at Giant, is where logic flies out the window. Somehow, never mind the Super Bowl, whole other issue, I must be stocked up for weeks. Look me in the eye and tell me that, at the most, I will be housebound for 3, 4 days at the extreme. I’m not hearing you.

Every person who lives in northern Virginia believes, really believes at this point, that we’ll be blessed to make it to church on Easter morning. Doesn’t really matter whether 2 inches or 2 feet of snow are on the way.

So I shopped for rotisserie chicken, cheese, stuff to make beef enchiladas, cold cuts, rolls, chips and salsa. And I jostled my way along with the rest of the grinning idiots who swear they don’t like snow, but aren’t we all smiling big? It’s a party in every home. For the first six hours and 3 changes of snow clothes anyway.

By Saturday afternoon, the interesting food will have been eaten; the kids will be tired of playing outside; the walls will seem a little too close. But I’ll be fine with it. Because on Monday morning, I’ll get in my car and drive back to sweet, sunny South Carolina.