Did you know that it sometimes snows in the greater-Atlanta area? Because when I moved here, I did not know this. I mean, sure, my husband always tries to tell me about that one time, when he was maybe in high school or almost in high school or grade school or something, when they were able to go sledding down the streets in their neighborhood, because the city got an inch or two of snow, and everybody was out of school for a week.
I'm a little hazy on the details, because I moved to the south to get away from winter weather, and if you are not willing to move with me to Florida, you need to shut your mouth and NOT TELL ME THAT IT STILL SOMETIMES SNOWS IN GEORGIA. And if you will not do that, then I will stick my fingers in my ears and hum loudly until you stop talking.
That's just the way things work.
ANYWAY.
Aside from this one blip on the radar, things seemed to be fine in regards to Georgia's winter weather. It got cold, but not Indiana cold. There was sunshine to be seen. There were 50+ degree days here and there to remind me that spring was never far away in the south.
AND THEN WE GOT SNOWED IN AT THE END OF 2011. AND AGAIN AT THE BEGINNING OF 2014. AND I DO NOT APPROVE.
All things considered, Steve and I were lucky when the storm (snowpocalypse? snowmageddon? Atlantarctic disaster?) hit last week. We had gone into work together, despite Steve hinting around that he wanted to work from home since the weatherpeople were predicting some snow in the area, because I am one of those idiotic northerners who scoffs at a two inch snow prediction, completely disregarding the fact that for my adopted southern city, which isn't exactly great with the traffic on a normal day, two inches of snow will paralyze everything.
We left work around 1:15pm, at which point the city was already in gridlock, and after driving around in circles for an hour, trying to find any road where the traffic was moving enough to get us to the highway we take home everyday, we were still only about a mile away from the office. At this point, things were getting a little tense in the car, as I may or may not have yelled at Steve to just pick a damn direction already (Seriously. We were driving in circles. For an hour. TO GO ONE MILE.), but lucky for me I married a directional genius who decided that we just needed to start driving any way available to us to get out of the downtown mess. And that's exactly what we did.
After an hour and a half in the city, we were officially on the one highway that was still moving at that point, because everything else was so jammed, none of the usual highways were feeding into it. An hour and a half after that, we were home. My normal commute is at least an hour going home, so three hours? I will not complain.
My poor sister-in-law works a few blocks from where I work and lives a few miles south from where I live. She took our normal route home, leaving an hour earlier than Steve and I had left, and she was on the road for six or seven hours. Even then, she had to park at a drugstore and have my brother-in-law come get her in his Jeep, because she couldn't get into the neighborhood. One of my employees spent the night in a hotel lobby. My boss slept in her office. My old neighbor spent 16.5 hours in HIS CAR.
So, a three hour commute? Sure. Fine. NOT A PROBLEM.
Needless to say, we didn't go anywhere for the next two days. Steve and I worked from home (his mom stayed with us, both to watch the girls while we worked, and also to avoid being snowed in by herself while my father-in-law was off on an amazingly well-timed trip to the Keys with some college buddies), Brigid spent extended periods of time in her pajamas, and our neighborhood children systematically destroyed the 16th fareway and green behind our house, as golf course hills really are the best hills for sledding. Brigid and Steve managed to not break the wooden sled that once belonged to Steve's grandfather, which is the only sled we own, and Brigid FINALLY got to build the darn snowman she's been talking about ever since she saw the movie Frozen back in November. In a (not at all) surprising move, she named him Olaf.
By Friday, everything had melted. On Sunday, Brigid wore sandals out of the house to a Super Bowl party. And I was happy.
And now it's cold again.
Have I mentioned how much I hate winter, yet?
(There are rumors that someone has predicted possible snowfall for the area this week or next week. I will guarantee you that after what the government and schools went through last week, with children spending the night in schools because their parents couldn't get to them and cars abandoned all over every major highway in the city when traffic was at a complete standstill overnight? If there is even the THREAT of snow within a ninety mile radius of the city, everything will be cancelled. So. It will be interesting to see how the rest of the winter plays out, I guess...)
