The Lost Coast

When it's 51 degrees and overcast in Seattle in May (there is nothing unusual about this by the way), if you are me you might be thinking about the Lost Coast. Especially when you get an email from a friend who lives there that says: "It is lovely here right now. You should come and visit."

It's a good thing Montana is only three weeks away, though I was kind of alarmed when my brother said something about possibly frozen pipes.

Fucking snow!

(UPDATED)
Sorry. One of my resolutions is to try and be all zen and accepting in 2009, but this weather is really trying my resolve. It is one thing to say "it is what it is," and quite another thing to feel the words as a peaceful utterance.

I don't know about other Seattle denizens, but I have had enough of this snow and had convinced myself that winter was over for all intents and purposes. I was ready to start enacting my resolutions! I almost went so far as to make plans - firm plans - this week. What folly! The evil white stuff started coming down at around 5 pm tonight. We had planned to go to the gym. What fools! Ha ha, the gym. What in the world were we thinking?

I don't know, but here's what we think. We now totally understand why Americans tend to stereotype Midwesterners as fat, potato-eating pigs. Walt said I could use the expression "Minnesota Fats" if I wanted to. I'll reserve that for another use. But the truth is, once you get past the utter impossibility of organizing a sledding party in your neighborhood - for reasons that are logistical, sociological and physio-psychological (i.e., you have to overcome emotional and physical inertia) - you just have to face the fact that you really can't do much of anything when it is cold, snowy, slushy, icy and just plain hostile outside. And the main reason is yourself. You don't want to go out there if you can help it. So you spend your days mostly sitting, standing at the window occasionally to look at the white stuff and walking to and from the kitchen.

Actually, I should count my blessings. At least I work at home, so I don't have to think about how to get to the office on Monday morning. I don't have to deal with the smell of wet and sweaty everywhere, or the indignity of slipping and falling on my ass on the way to the bus stop or the car. On the other hand, with nowhere to go I have, well, nowhere to go. I think it's called cabin fever. And poor Neko. I can't explain to her why our walky-walks have been suspended until further notice.

One thing is certain. I understand the urge to hibernate. And if this snow continues much longer, that's what I'm going to do.

(UPDATE)
Luckily or unluckily, I don't have/get to hibernate. Last night was a fluke. Today it is at least 40° outside and nearly all the wretched snow has melted. Neko and I took a glorious walk to the water taxi and back. We could not believe our luck! Life is good again; 2009 is back on track. Now I can formulate achievable resolutions and maybe even stick with them. But probably not.

Snow story

Any Seattleite will tell you: it doesn't snow very often here. And when it does, any transplant from the Northeast or the Midwest will tell you: people in Seattle do not know how to drive in or otherwise cope with snow conditions. But I digress. This is not my problem because I work from home. And when it snows, I have a perfectly good reason not to go outside at all. Not that I need a reason any day. Still, it feels good to look at Neko and say "Sorry, Poops, but no walky-walk today" and know that she will understand why.
They said to expect an inch or so, but it has been snowing small but steady flakes for at least 4 hours now. In other words, at least two inches and mounting.
When I was a kid, growing up in Seattle, it did not snow often enough. And when it did, we did not get enough full-day school closures. I used to listen to the radio obsessively, waiting for the announcement that the Highline School District was closed. There were far too many one-hour late starting times. Bummer.
The hill we lived on, Fentonwood, would immediately become treacherously slick and impossible for vehicles to navigate. For this reason, it was one of the best places to go sledding. And because of its exposure, or lack thereof, Fentonwood remained an icy death trap long after the snow had become but a distant memory.
I live today on a treacherous hill not unlike Fentonwood. I'm staying inside today.