Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow

Yes, its March.  And yes, it was a beautiful 70 degrees outside yesterday.  But this is Virginia, and not surprisingly, there is a chance for snow on Monday.  Which brings me to a post that I had planned on writing a couple of weeks ago when we did actually get a little bit of snow, but it turns out that I was too busy having a snow day and enjoying Chuck E. Cheese's with my niece to actually write it.

I hate driving in the snow.  This seems like a fairly big problem for someone moving to Colorado!

It is true that I was born in western Pennsylvania, but I am a true Virginian.  Pretty much all that remains of Pittsburgh in me is the love of certain foods like pierogi, chipped ham barbecue and gobs, and my diehard love of the Steelers.  (I still find it hard to believe that we were Tebowed in the first play of overtime in the playoffs, but I will get over that by the start of next season.  I promise.  More difficult to get over, though, is the lack of Hines Ward and his smiling face.)  I grew up in an area where a half of an inch of snow was a big deal, enough to cancel school or at least get a delay.  I also grew up with a mother constantly telling us how dangerous it was to drive in the snow, and so I didn't.  Sort of like how I still don't eat honey, take aspirin and am kind of terrified of squirrels.  I'll save all of that for another post, or perhaps for a sofa one day.  Anyway, I think the first time I actually drove in snow was in college.  Crazy, right?

Fast forward to several weeks ago.  We went skiing with some great friends in the mountains of West Virginia.  I was the first to arrive and was driving my trusty Honda Civic.  And yay, it was snowing!  Perfect for a ski weekend, right?  Long story short... I got stuck on the tiny little mountain road leading to our cabin.  Stuck with wheels spinning and all.  So I panicked and put the car in park.  I tried calling K to no avail.  So I called one of my 'other husbands' but he and his wife were still an hour away.  Just as I was trying to figure out where my heavy ski clothing was packed so I could walk back (with egg on my face) to the gate guard, who told me that I needed four wheel drive and I decided to completely ignore politely inform that the maintenance man assured me I would be fine, a huge plow truck drove by my car.  I put my window down, leaned out and waved.  The first question out of my mouth was, "do you guys know a good tow truck around here??"  They laughed and said they wouldn't leave me stranded.  At this point, I should say I was inside a gated community and they were wearing hats with the logo of our rental place, so I figured that I should in fact trust these men.  I'll skip the specifics and get to the point... I gave my car to one of the men so he could drive my car to the cabin and I hopped into the plow.  (It turns out that the cabin was only about 150-200 yards up the road. Oops.)

Yep, I would rather give my car to a complete stranger to drive than figure it out.  Doesn't bode well for me in Colorado, huh?  Maybe the real blog should be about becoming a Coloradoan (Coloradan?  Coloradite?  First step... look that up) and not just about our trip out there!  If you have any snow tips for me, feel free.

Besides, who am I kidding?  I'll always be a Virginian at heart.  Maybe I should just hibernate.