Pic of the week.

My icy neighborhood after the Polar Vortex came over.

When I was younger, weather talk was boring—a sign that you had nothing else to talk about. But, when Al Roker told me the oh-so-frightening Polar Vortex was actually going to break off and come flying toward Baton Rouge at lightening speed, it became the topic of conversation at my office coffee pot.

That damn Vortex stood waiting in the wings for days, like a pimple just underneath the surface. And, as you’ve heard by now, our city shut down as we waited for the predicted ice and snow.

While a “Snow Day” here in Baton Rouge is nothing quite like the ones I had as a child in Indiana, I sure felt like it.

I recalled those sweet moments, waiting in front of the television for the announcer to call “Bartholomew County,” the signal that we were free from school for a day.

Going to bed the night before an (unknowingly) impending snow day was a sleep of mixed feelings—would I get to sleep in tomorrow or not? I remember waking up many times during nights like those, looking out of my bedroom window at the street lamp. If there was visible snow in the light, I could almost bet on a day off.

As an adult, a snow day isn’t quite the same.

After living in Louisiana for ten years, I’ve had four snow days. Three of them have been in the last week.

The first day we had, I worked in the morning, and slept. A lot. The second snow day, I was productive, thinking we’d be back at work the following day. But when we got a third snow day, I knew I had to try and get out of the house before I either killed the cat or started crafting.

I am lucky enough to live within walking distance to several stores and restaurants, so I put on my boots and gloves and marched downstairs. The walk to get coffee was fairly easy, but there was definitely ice.

The walk from the coffee shop to the grocery however, should be considered an olympic event because I managed to slide across nearly an entire parking lot without spilling a drop of my Venti Pike.

During my snow day “adventure,” I recalled a similar walk from my dad’s apartment in Cincinnati to a Starbucks a few blocks away, many years ago. Only that walk involved climbing in and over actual snow drifts.

The lengths I will travel to get to the Green Goddess are unimaginable.

But as I thought about it (simultaneously gripping the handrail as I tackled a flight of concrete stairs), I’ve traveled some great lengths, in love and in my life.

I often find myself reminiscing my childhood, not because it was so great, but because I remember being happy. And there are times I would give anything to get that back.

But, the truth is, I can’t turn back—as much as I wished I could on that damn icy parking lot—I’m in this. And sometimes, the walks alone are not my favorite.

But they are always an adventure.

“Don’t be scared to walk alone, don’t be scared to like it.”

—John Mayer, The Age of Worry 

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