I grew up in Colorado. And I never had even one snow day. I know, what luck right? I have it on my list of "Things to Take Up with the Big Guy." However, since moving to Seattle 3 years ago, I have had several snow days, which is more than making up for the paucity of my childhood. I mean, I have to work remotely on the snow days, but no one sends me emails, no one wants anything, and so my days quickly turn into me baking in the kitchen, phone in apron pocket, emails open on the table, and occasionally, I'll walk over to it, scan to make sure no one needs me, and then continue on making my sweet potato cheesecake. Delicious.
In the years living in Seattle, I've gone from a person disgusted from the city's inability to handle the smallest of snow storms to completely enjoying the fact that the city SHUTS DOWN given 3 inches of snow. It's rather wonderful. Neighborhood coffee shops fill up, the local pizza and beer place is packed, everyone is enthusiastic, except for the passengers on the 1/3 of metro buses that jackknifed and who are now stranded at the office. (Dummies - why did you leave the house?!) I love snow. I love living in a city that lets me unabashedly enjoy it. None of this Denver mentality of getting-thought-it. I much prefer Seattle's freak-out-on-the-outside-and-secretly-enjoy-it-as-an-excuse-to-eat,-bake,-and-drink. Yes, please!
So that's my last 3 days have been like. Working from home, baking up a storm, making some kick-ass save-the-dates, and addressessing the hell out of some envalopes (Confidential to mis padres: Amos' family already got us all their addresses. You haven't. Just sayin'.)