Blizzard of Oz Part 1 and 2

A long time has passed since I last graced everyone with a new post, new insights into the world and new idioms regarding stupid people.  But, in my defense, I've been a wee bit busy.  I left one job, put my house on the market, moved within a stone's throw of my parents and my in-laws, got a new job, have a mortgage and rent to pay, had to find a new school and new doctor for my son.  Then I fell down the stairs, majorly injuring my back three weeks after starting my new job.  Suffered through the holidays and then I face-planted onto a coffee mug, suffered a concussion and the cycle continues.

So, from here on out, I blame the concussion.  And to all of you who think I should be sequestered to my home...let me remind you that three years ago, I broke my shoulder after agreeing to a night in.  How?  By being yanked by and tripping over our dog KoKo.  So, isolation won't work.  To those of you who think I should wrap myself in bubble wrap, a fine and funny suggestion - but, I would probably suffocate on the plastic.

I have said before and I say again, I am the luckiest unlucky person I know.

- sound of knocking on wood here -

This year, the Midwest was plowed with two major snowstorms in one week.  And if you haven't had the pleasure of visiting the booming metropolis of (insert name of town), KANSAS, let me tell you that hell did, in fact, freeze over.

During the first Blizzard of Oz, I was traveling to Podunkville A for my job, monitoring the weather radar the entire way.  I arrived safely to that flat plain of a town and headed to Wheatville B as the light snow started to pick up.  As I began my presentation in WB, I completely lost my voice, came down with bronchitis and cursed the unlucky Gods for thrusting me into the 10th Circle of Hell.

Because nobody wanted to make any decisions on cancelling the remaining events for the week, I had to wake up on Wednesday morning and try to beat Dorothy and the Blizzard to One-Horse Town C.  I really wanted to make it home.  I willed my husband's low-rider, two-door bachelor mobile to trudge through...to get me back to Missouri...to civilization.

No such luck.  Just outside of One-Horse Town C, the snow was blowing so hard and the number of cars sliding off the road got to be too much.  It's hard to concentrate on the road when you are hacking up a lung and your eyes are stinging from a fiery fever.  So, I decided to pull over in "WalMart is Our Entertainment" Town D and prayed (well, hoped, since I was in hell) that the Comfort Inn had a room available (because while the Horseshoe Inn across the highway looked quaint, I didn't want to take a room away from a 'working girl' who may be snowed in).

So, I pulled up, checked in and went to work unloading the car and preparing it for the blizzard.  I'm a planner.  I'm a thinker.  I'm a doer.  In preparation of SnowStorm 3000, I packed my boots, gloves, ice scraper, hat and enough cold medicine to put a normal human into a coma.

As I looked around the itty-bitty car, I realized I did not pack something to cover the windshield.  So, I took my company's banner (it was an old, out-dated one) out of the backseat, covered the front of the car and put plastic bags over the side mirrors.  I felt on top of things.  Totally ready for whatever Mother Nature cast upon the armpit of America.

I got to my room (yes, a handicapped room on the 4th floor, who knew?) and logged onto my computer to begin work as I chugged NyQuil to make the pain go away.  I listened to the howling of the wind - oh wait, that was the sound of the Kardashians on the boob tube in the background.  I stressed about work.  I stressed about my sore throat.  I stressed about my husband, my son and two doggies an hour and 45 minutes away.  But, I figured, the blizzard will pass and I could see them the next day.

Right.

I felt like death warmed over.  There was nobody coming or going.  And there were four semi-trucks stranded on the ramp leading to the non-plowed highway.  I wasn't getting out. 

But, I needed more medicine.  I needed alcohol.  I needed something.

After debating for about 20 minutes whether to brace the wind, I decided to make the trek to the WalMart one block down.  How bad could it be?  I packed the essential gear.  But, what I failed to UNpack were my boots.  They were sitting nice and cold in the snow-covered compact car.  Smart.

So, I donned my tennis shoes, layered up and made the hike anyway.

And yes, WalMart was open.

I bought a large ice scraper, more gloves, a winter jacket for $9, more cold medicine, a book and food because I knew I would be staying another night in the luxurious "WalMart is Our Entertainment" Town D.

And luxurious it was.  Coughing.  Hacking.  More snowfall.  Then snowplows.  Then the sun came up and I ventured out to see what I had to dig out from.  Awesome.

The snow was so thick.  The piles were so high.  I went to work in my new WalMart jacket.  I couldn't get into the car because the snow was halfway up the low-rider doors.  So, I dug.  I pulled the banner off the car, the bags off the mirrors and kept digging until my toes were numb and was able to get into the car to start the defrost process.  Hi boots.

I rocked the car back and forth.  I burned rubber.  I swerved, weaved, bobbed and encouraged little Blackie (the car was named by my son) to get us home to our family.  I think I even promised an oil change and car wash.  What can I say? I was high on NyQuil.  I had a concussion.

I finally made it home, notifying staff along the way of what events were and were not cancelled.  But, I was back home.  Able to enjoy the weekend (albeit sick) with my family.

Then, rinse, repeat...Mother Nature decided to make a sequel.  Typical.  It sucked worse than the first one.  So, my Michigander friends, enjoy the Blizzard of Oz in all its glory.  And if you see Dorothy, you can keep her...she's a real bitch.  And her little dog too.