I was informed today that Portland just might get another snow storm. My former self loved snow. I would approach each Portland winter with my fingers crossed that we would get snow, since it is such a rare occurrence.  Most winters I would be disappointed with old man winter. If it did snow it would be less than an inch.  My daughter would attempt to sled on grass. I always would feel a bit sad for her thinking that playing in the snow was sledding on cold, muddy grass with a few icy snow flakes and making 6 inch high snow man was normal. However, this winter after a few ice storms, a BIG snow, and 9 snow days later from school…I can say my winter dream of participating in the precipitation is fulfilled. The groundhog’s prediction of six more weeks of winter is officially rejected, and I am not accepting its credentials of rodent to be enough to pass as a meteorologist.

In the past, I would have so much joy and anticipation at the thought of snow. Back in my college days, I would end up in bars if classes were cancelled (which was rare). To clarify, classes being cancelled was rare, me ending up in bar during a snow storm was not.  When I moved to Philadelphia, I would again end up in a bar with a nice fire place, when the city would shut down for snow. It was glorious to walk down the vacated city streets during a snow storm.  Then I moved to Portland, snow in the city was a rare event. It was so rare that when it would snow I would get the urge to throw in something a little special to my bar experience, maybe a strip club.  I can’t explain why naked ladies factor into my life when it snows, but it can’t be just me.

Today, I am so against the snow, I am willing to write the President to suggest he write an Executive Order forbidding a single snowflake from entering Portland for the rest of 2017. Otherwise, I believe I might be on the verge of a freak out.  It could be quiet, and on the inside maybe. My freak out might even be in the form of a twitch or a weird twinkle in my right eye.  Or it could be an epic tantrum, if I wake up tomorrow with snow on the ground and Portland Public calling snow day number 10.  I’m afraid even naked ladies won’t lift my spirits this time;)