We woke yesterday morning to find that the weatherman’s prediction of an over-night ice storm had been nullified by Mother Nature. It was dry and cold, but there was no ice.
Yet.
By noonish, the first of the freezing rain began to fall, splattering onto our front windows and freezing. The glass thickened as the raindrops filled in the panes, the world outside a gray and distorted blur.
So we hunkered down and read and played and did laundry and ate and cleaned and slept.
Last night, while I was on the treadmill running for my life, the announcement came that school was delayed. This morning, the delay turned to cancellation.
So the kids are home today with my mother. I came into work, the van sliding only once on the glassy ice over a bald spot on our gravel road. The paved road was fine.
I have always had a love/hate relationship with ice.
I love icicles, ice skating, and ice sculptures (but not enough to want to learn ow to make them or even watch someone make them).
I hate walking and driving on ice and ice in my drinks because it sends tendrils of pain through my front teeth.
I was a beginning driver when I slid out of my parents’ driveway, the front end of my gigantic boat-of-a-car wagging itself into a tree at the end of the drive before I shot out into the street, my rear wheels hitting the curb hard. The car had minimal damage (re: a small dent), the tree had no damage, and, given that I was darn lucky there was no one on our busy street at the time, I had no damage. Unless you count a healthy fear of driving on ice.
One time, while returning to college as an undergraduate, I hit a patch of ice coming up on a stop sign. My little Escort fishtailed back and forth across the narrow road, amazingly missing every parked car and pedestrian it encountered.
Of course, there was the time we spun out on the Pennsylvania Turnpike.
I was in high school when I completely wiped out on the ice in front of the school while I was carrying a crazy number of books and folders, my purse, and my oboe. Everything scattered and I crawled around, reclaiming it and wanting to vanish.
Scott and I drove back from visiting friends after an ice storm that turned all of the trees in Indiana to glass. It was gorgeous.
I also once slid under a car — twice. Yes, that sounds odd, but I was going out to a professor’s car to pick up something she needed for a set and I slipped under the car as I tried to open the door. Then I clawed my way to my feet, retrieved the item, and slipped under the car again. Clearly, I’m not too bright.
The temperature is supposed to continue to climb, so the ice won’t be around long. This time.
The show is under the direction of the fearless (and pantsless) Lyz Lenz. I’m planning to audition. If I’m cast, squee! If not, I’ll volunteer as an usher or a backstage lackey or something just to be a part of the inaugural LTYM Eastern Iowa. All proceeds donated to Waypoint.
Oh, and the special guest is the one and only Zach Wahls.
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Souper Sutff
it’s the thing I hate about driving in winter conditions. I didn’t have to do it in CA and after skidding out last year in NJ, I’m freakin’ out!
Stacie @ Snaps and Bits recently posted..Rockin’ The Fringe Mohawk
Yes, driving in ice is the pits. I prefer driving in show to ice, but would rather drive in perfect conditions. Why can’t Mother Nature come through for me on this one?