Snowpocalype: A Survival Guide

Greetings from the frigid Northeast!

Unless you've been living under a rock (or live abroad, in the case of the onslaught of Russian readers/spambots that my stats inform me are viewing this blog), you probably know that most of the continental United States has been trapped in the clutches of the ominously-named "Polar Vortex" for the past three weeks or so. For most, this has meant near-record lows for temperature as well as the constant threat of "winter weather events."

Or, as we here in New England like to call it, "winter."*

I have a huge amount of family and friends spread across this great nation of ours, including several who either currently reside in, or are originally from, The South. One of my best friends packed up her shit and moved to Tampa practically before her high school graduation cap hit the ground, and two-thirds of my immediate family are residents of the Lone Star State (one brother is in San Antonio with his family; the rest are in Waco while my sister attends Baylor). There are several more across the country, but they all share a Yankee heritage and have flown the coop simply to avoid this phenomenon called "snow."

A lot of people are giving our Southern friends a hard time because an entire major metropolitan city was brought to a standstill by approximately two inches of snow. This isn't cool, guys. Some of the stuff being said and, more obnoxiously, written, is downright mean. And while I'm as guilty as anyone else of giving the side-eye to the entire situation, it was based not on the actions of (most) individuals, but on the inability for the city and state infrastructure to weather such an event (see what I did there?). To my Yankee brethren, remember how the entire Northeast shut down for Nemo last February? Sure, that was two-three feet of white stuff, but impact-wise, there isn't much difference between two feet in Boston and two inches in Atlanta. We operate annually with snow removal budgets and know from experience to never trust a snow/rain line on the doppler -- but would we know that if we didn't live with it all the time? Of course not, just the same way that I don't know how to deal with 110 degrees and 100% humidity or an actual intense hurricane (which, coincidentally, took down what is arguably the most important city IN THE WORLD last year, as well as an entire coastline that still isn't back to normal). Cool it with the personal attacks already.

That being said, I feel that, as someone with almost 30 years of experience with this situation (and a lover of bad weather), I am qualified to give advice regarding how to survive in a Snowpocalypse, regardless of whether said incident brings 2 inches or 20. Should you find yourself in an impending "snow situation," here are some tips that I've found work for me and most people I know who deal with it on a regular basis. 

How to Survive a Snowpocalypse

A few basic rules:
Rule 1: If there is even a single flake falling somewhere in a 100-mile radius, you could get snow and should act accordingly.
Rule 2: Never, ever, EVER trust a meteorologist attempting to predict a snowstorm, especially if he or she uses the phrase, "rain/snow line." This is the weather equivalent of throwing one's hands up in the air and declaring, "HELL IF I KNOW! I just get paid to stand here and talk about the unpredictability of Mother Nature." While you can't control how your city/state/municipality prepares for a snowpocalypse, if there is even the remotest possibility of snow in the forecast, the suggestions below will help if you get slammed.

Preparation:
First off, you need to make sure you're properly prepared for a snow storm. This includes, but is not limited to, stocking up on a few essential items:

Seriously, though -- get yourself a bag of rock salt; a shovel; a good pair of mittens (those are the kind WITHOUT separate fingers -- they look stupid as hell but trust me, they're warmer than gloves); some long underwear (I actually think fleece-lined running tights work best); a pair of boots (order online if you have to. LL Bean: not just for monogrammed dog beds anymore!), and one of these handy little do-dads.

Source

Another pro tip? Prior to the predicted storm, take five seconds and pull your windshield wipers up as though you were going to clean the glass; this way, when the snow is over, you can just flip them back down, turn them on and watch as your windshield magically appears with very little effort on your part).

Like so.

Most importantly, IF YOU HAVE OIL HEAT, make sure that you have enough oil for the next few days. Now is also a good time to locate your flashlights, candles, blankets, etc., in the event you lose power. I also like to round up my board games and books, because nothing screams "BORING" like sitting in the dark for several hours with nothing to do but stare at each other.

Lastly, you want to be sure you're properly fortified with rations, because the absolute LAST THING IN THE WORLD you want to be doing during a snowstorm is sleeping on the floor of your local supermarket with a bunch of random strangers. For some reason that I assume dates back to World War II, there is this pervasive rumor that once a single snowflake falls, the human body magically switches over and is only able to convert bread, milk and water into fuel. Perhaps I've been doing it wrong, but I usually stock up on the important, shelf-stable food groups (wine, cans of soup, wine, EZ Cheez, crackers, beans, beer, wine) at the beginning of the winter, and I've managed to survive on this planet for almost 30 years, so that's something.

Don't be this person.

But what if I've ignored this advice and listened to the weather man, only to find out the storm *is* going to hit so I immediately went to the store three hours before the storm to get my bread and milk and now, after being trapped in Aisle 4 for five hours, my options are to brave the roads or sleep next to the feminine hygiene products?

::Sigh:: You ignored the first rule. Luckily for you, if Northerners didn't learn to drive in the snow, our entire economy would shut down for six months out of the year. So here are some tips:

- Understand the concept of black ice. First up, a clarification: black ice isn't actually black; it's just called that because it's so thin that it isn't visible over pavement.More importantly, it is slippery as hell. Before you even set foot out the door, heed this advice when it comes to ice: just because you can't see it doesn't mean it isn't there. What it *does* mean is that if you aren't extremely careful, you're going to find yourself either in a ditch or (literally) on your ass.

- DRIVE. SLOWLY. I can't overemphasize this enough -- you might be cruising along, thinking "wow these roads look so clean I don't understand what all of the fuss was abo-- SCREEECH!!!!" Remember that black ice we just talked about? Now you can admire it up close, because you're going to be waiting awhile for that tow truck.

- Turn INTO the skid. I speak from thirteen years of experience when I say that there are few things in the world more nerve-wracking than losing your traction on a sheet of ice or packed snow and feeling the back end of your car slide out from underneath you. Generally speaking, you want to steer into the skid, which defies common sense but works. Here is a video demonstration:



Congratulations!
You are now prepared for a snow storm. Now grab your stash of Blizzard Wine and a loved one, heat yourself up a can of soup and settle in for a marathon-viewing of whatever Netflix show suits your fancy

I'd go with the back shelf, rather than the front.

Go get 'em, Tiger.

*cue the Russian readers laughing. I don't blame them.

Rumplestiltskin Ain't Got Jack

Today, I took my first spin class since I started half training. Oh, and lest you be confused, I haven't started training for any 2012 halves yet; I'm referring to the one I ran in October.

So yeah, since June.

Spin was always one of those mysterious feats of athleticism that I planned to view strictly through the paned glass in the group studio door. As if my crippling fear of looking like a jackass during group exercise wasn't enough, the horror stories alone were enough to keep me away  -- people who had taken an introductory class and been unable to sit for a week, coworkers who burned off half a box of Dunkin's finest in a single session, friends from the weight loss forum I used to haunt who relayed stories of how little estuaries of sweat pooled into "Lake Username" beneath their bikes.

If you hadn't guessed by now, I'm kind of lazy. I prefer to maintain the use of the tree trunks attached to my hips. I believe that anything that burns 650 calories in an hour should be illegal. And the prospect of a "Lake Caitlin" forming beneath me? Thanks, but no thanks.

And then my good friend, the same good friend who would later convince me that 13.1 miles was a good idea, talked me into attending a lunchtime class with her. And by that, I mean she threatened to go over my head and blurt out to my boss that we were going spinning. Nothing says "workout motivator" like a little corporate passive aggression.

Yes, my ass hurt; no, I couldn't walk afterward. I burned 550 calories in that first class and had a little great lake to call my very own. And I loved it. I went twice a week for almost a year after that first class, when my schedule allowed and the stars aligned over my lunch break. And then that same friend who introduced me to this burgeoning love of my life sadistically ripped it away and made me start running.

How rude.

Since it has been three months since I ran anything over a 10k and my hips' expansion is currently giving the national inflation rate a run for its money, I declared today the day that I took back spin. After scarfing leftover lemon basil chicken pasta, I marched my (not so) little bum across the street, planted it in the saddle and spun like Rumplestiltskin*.

During that 55 minutes of glorious torture, I had a chance to refresh my memory regarding the top five lessons I have learned about spinning. In the event that anyone reading wants to bring this special kind of hell upon themselves, I thought that I would share what I wished someone had told me before I started.

Five Facts Someone Should Have Told Me About Spinning

1. If you have a lunchtime class that is scheduled to last 55 minutes, negotiate with your boss to take a 75 minute break. 5 extra minutes to change and claim a bike; 15 to rinse off and get dressed. The extra 20 minutes of work is worth it.

2.Some well-timed Michael Jackson can make all the difference.

3.Phrases such as "I love you," "will you marry me?" and "it's a girl!" are overrated. The best words in the English language are "Back in the saddle."

4. You might not think you need to rinse off after, but trust me. No one wants to be the stinky kid!

5. Sorry, Al Gore. The internet is snazzy and all, but dry shampoo is the greatest invention of our time. Perfume samples are a close second.

Yes, that about sums it up. Of course, the usual lessons that other people always go on and on about probably apply too; I'm sure that padded shorts, clip in shoes and a nice expensive gel seat cover probably all make the process a little bit easier. I wouldn't know, because I prefer to take my exercise with a side order of pain. 

Now excuse me while I go unclench my hamstrings.


*I am aware that Rumplestiltskin partook in a different kind of spinning. I was once in an ice show based on classic children's fairy tales. Plus, I've seen every episode of Once Upon a Time, which totally qualifies me as an expert on the matter.

Tips For Holiday Shopping: Part the First

First off, I want to wish each and every single one of the brave men and women who have and who continue to fight for our freedom here in the US a Happy Veteran's Day --- thank you so much for all that you do. My grandfather, an 88-year old World War II vet, is one of the most determined, inspiring and wise men I have ever known, and to him, I wish a particularly Happy Veteran's Day and heartfelt thank you for all that he has given to his country. We love you!

....There is no appropriate segue into the next topic, so on that note, let's just dive in.

So, as I was showering the other day and singing "Dominick the Donkey" (long story short: a homeless man had serenaded the entire green line train with it the night before... and now that you've remembered it exists, YOU try getting it out of your head), I realized that the holiday season is, crazily, almost upon us. The upsetting part here isn't that we are barely ten days into November and I am already pontificating on the true meaning of Christmas (and all other holiday seasons), but that this season inevitably brings about a minor panic attack, triggered entirely by my memories of holiday shopping hell.

You see, I worked in a major national department store from the age of 16 until I was 20. As anyone who has ever worked in retail can tell you, those four years basically qualified me for "Lifer" status -- a true honor, I assure you. I met some of my best friends and made some of my best memories at that job. In fact, I even chose it as the inspiration for my final work for my Creative Fiction class in college, aptly titled Retail Therapy. While serving my time as a credit-application shilling underling, I worked in every department but mens' suits, window dressing and catalog, including, but not limited to: shoes, stock, visual, lingerie, women's, kid's, petites, juniors, fine jewelry, fragrance, accessories and dresses. Fun fact about your author: I am qualified to fit you for both shoes and jewelry, and am also a certified bra fit specialist.

I know what you're thinking, and yes, I am a real blast at parties.

Aside from giving me the opportunity to hone these talents, my stint in retail taught me a lot about people in general. I know the prevailing thought is that nothing can teach you more about people than food service, but given my experience, I'd venture a guess that retail is a very close second... particularly around the holidays. Which is why I have taken it upon myself to offer up some tips for the upcoming holiday shopping season, from the perspective of a former retail slave employee:

- Don't bitch to the dude at the register about the Christmas music that started playing the day after Halloween. I'd be willing to wager any amount of money that the employees hate it even MORE than you do. Look, you're in the store for what, an hour, tops? Those poor saps are stuck there between four and a half and nine hours at a time, making $7/hr. Know how long that soundtrack lasts? Two hours. It's six years later and I can still sing "Frosty, the Snowman" in four different styles, including calypso. Don't even get me started on "Santa Baby." And remember: it's not Christmas music. It's Winter Holiday Sounds. 

- Trust me, I get as annoyed as you do when an item rings up at a higher price than the sign said it should, but that does not give you a license to take it out on the clerk. As a consumer, this is one of the most frustrating aspects of shopping. You get all excited over a seemingly too-good-to-be-true purchase, get to the register, and BAM! The item rings up at twice the price you expected. Quel horreur! Just remember: it isn't the sixteen year old behind the register's fault; the store has an entire stock/pricing/visual team in charge of these things. Homegirl is just trying to scrape enough pennies together to afford a really fancy date with her boyfriend. At Chili's.

- Don't assume that the creepy man selling you your shoes has a secret life as a pervert. He might just be really socially awkward, and his colleagues might be in the midst of a plot to set him up with the crotchedy old cat lady from the lingerie department (true story).

- Also, don't assume that the person behind that counter is any less intelligent and/or accomplished than you are. There is this pervasive mentality from before the dot-com bust that retail = college dropouts/teenagers/lower middle-upper lower class. In the event that you haven't read Bitter is the New Black, by my idol, Jen Lancaster (in which case, why are we even friends?), let me enlighten you: Times are tough. A lot of people lost everything when the market crashed and are now doing anything to try to make ends meet. Aside from the facts that it's the holiday season AND there is never a reason to treat anyone like shit, keep in mind that your condescending 'tude could be directed at the former head of a company who is one step away from climbing back to the top... where he could become your boss. Plus, it's just rude.

- Parents, don't threaten your kids with, "the lady is going to get mad at you" unless you want me to tell your kid he just won a free supply of  chocolate bars, then hand him a bag full of the sugary goodness left over from a previous Willy Wonka-style sale. This used to drive. me. NUTS. While adorable little Johnny is spitting in little sister Susie's face, causing her shrieks and snarls to echo throughout the cavernous walls of the store, please don't tell them to behave, "or the lady will yell at you." This rule is multiplied by infinity when it comes to you asking me to "tell him! If he doesn't behave, you're going to send all of his clothes right back to those racks!". I don't have kids for a reason, and I sure as hell am not going to discipline yours. Parent already.

There are plenty more, which I am working on compiling into a second post, but those are five of the more valuable nuggets of wisdom that I have to bestow upon my fellow holiday shoppers. I urge you to keep them in mind over the next seven weeks or so, and to remember to treat others as you would want to be treated. Which is why I am now going to leave you with a little something that someone recently left me.



Hee-haw! Hee-haw!