Just in time for the busiest time of the year, a snow storm hit southeastern Michigan hard this weekend. Like many in my area, this was not on "the list" of things to do before December 24th. I still had shopping, wrapping, card writing and decorating on my to-do's and this 10 inch snowfall was an imposing fluffy-white barricade to getting these things completed.
So, Friday morning, in total denial, I pulled on my Cabela snow boots, threw my ski coat over business casual attire and headed into the office. Braving unplowed streets and what appeared to be an abandoned parking lot, I made my way up to our department floor and was met with the silence of the majority, who wisely stayed home. I made myself a cup of tea and shared stories of the treacherous drive in with a few co-workers who were slowly making snowy trails to their cubicles. In a relatively short time, we received word from executive management to go home, as all indications were the storm would not be letting up any time soon.
That's when the "snow day" alarm set off - that joyous memory of no school, no homework and an unapologetic reason to do absolutely nothing. I immediately called my daughter, Rachel (who's home on college break), to put the kettle on to boil and warm up the DVD. It was a cosmic gift being sent our way - a day off, with no guilt!
By the time I got home, the tea was ready and the first episode of Gilmore Girls, Season 7, was ready to run. We were armed and ready - I brought out the full artillary of honey sticks: cinnamon, lemon and cloverleaf. Then Rachel went full throttle and brought out the kitchen aide. The day before, she had found a recipe in one of my tea magazines, for white chocolate chai tea mousse in dark chocolate cups. So, while Lorelai and Christopher were trying to salvage their marriage, we were wrapped up in afghans, sipping tea and eating chocolate. "The list" stayed forgotten, tucked away in the zippered pocket of my mock-designer purse.
Now, mind you, the list was still there the next day, but with the forced recharging of internal batteries, it seemed like a snap to get the remainder of the holiday tasks completed. Well, my husband might argue the mid-afternoon drive to the mall was more like a taxi ride in rush-hour Manhattan than a "snap," but we softened the stress by switching on the 24-hour Christmas music station and, as if on cue, the familiar and soothing sounds of Bing Crosby bellowing"White Christmas" came on.
Certainly, there's no doubt, in Detroit, we don't have to dream it, we're living White Christmas this week. But, to borrow from Irving Berlin, no matter where you are: "May your Holidays be merry and bright and - with the assistance of a full force of salt trucks - may all your Christmases be white."
Happy Holidays!
Barb
