The Comfort of Home- Part One

Hard to believe that three weeks ago, almost to the day, we were apple picking in summer-like weather. It felt a little strange and out of place at the time, not quite the typical fall activity of years past. Don’t get me wrong, it was a lot of fun. But, the weather made it feel slightly out of sync. I missed the briskness and the smell of fallen leaves in the air. Instead of of wishing I had worn a heavier jacket, I was pealing off my sweater. I consoled myself with the fact that, if nothing else, this probably meant a mild winter. Maybe I'll even have a little heating oil left at the end of the winter.

But here it was, three weeks later and there was a whole different scenario approaching. Helaina had come home on her usual Friday afternoon and I was picking up Rachael on Friday evening. Snow was predicted for Saturday and it was predicted to be heavy. I usually feel like it's a race against time when this happens. But this felt different. October wasn’t even over yet. I hadn’t even taken Sam Trick-or-Treating yet. How bad could it be? No way this could happen.

When I woke up on Saturday morning, there was no sign of snow. There was nothing. More than nothing (or should that be less?), it was sunny and pretty nice out, at least to start. Both girls took off for work and I got busy planning to do as little as possible. As the morning went on, it started getting a little raw. But it was Fall. What did I expect? I figured it would be a good time to do a little baking. And so, off I went to the grocery store.

Apparently three quarters of the town didn't share my view that there was a non-event heading our way. If I had been thinking straight, I would have avoided the grocery store like the plague, but it was too late now. I grabbed a cart and as I strolled leisurely through the store, I checked out the weekly sales. Do the bananas look ripe enough for banana bread? What’s this, pork butt? And it’s on sale besides! I’ve been wanting to make pulled pork in the crock-pot. Now was the perfect time.

As I strolled through the store, making my way to the buttermilk, it seemed to me like I was in one of those commercials where the camera focuses on a slowly moving pedestrian, while the cars and everyone else are a blur of motion. Shoppers were frantic. People were even more rude and annoying than usual. Over the intercom, the Manager was continually begging “people from all departments" to get to the front of the store. Of course none of the employees responded, and this only served to further the atmosphere of panic being felt by the rapidly forming mob at the registers.

Eventually, I joined the others at the front of the store. Each of us had our own essentials, they with their bread and batteries, I with my buttermilk and pork butt. With a little maneuvering, I managed to segue into the hint of a line funneling into one of the check-outs. A line, like all the others, that moved at a snail’s pace. It was like standing in a hot, overstuffed elevator but instead of muzak, there was only the bleating of the Manager’s increasingly desperate voice calling out for help up front, help that would never come. Impatient customers kept tentatively changing lanes. When one lane gave the illusion of moving faster than another, carriages would veer in that direction, some would pull back, unwilling to gamble that they might end up even worse off than they already were.

Standing there, and trying to avoid looking at any of the scandal sheets hanging in the racks, I made the mistake of catching the eye of the person behind me. Worse yet, I made the mistake of smiling at them. It wasn’t meant to mean anything, just one of those “we’re all in this together” kind of glances. This was met with the kind of glare that suggested that I was the crazy one. It seemed obvious by her look that I didn't realize the gravity of the situation. Her squint of disdain made me wish I had used it first. I’m pretty good if I’m the first to strike, but I have a hard time recovering when I’m hit off guard. I made sure not to make eye contact with her or anyone else. These people were crazy. I got the heck out of there and headed home.

Once home, I got to work making the bread and deboning the pork, a gruesome job that I’ve never done before. I stuck the bread in the oven and stuffed the flayed butt into the refrigerator and went out to rake leaves, just in case it did snow. Why I would rake leaves to beat the snow, I have no idea but it seemed to make perfect sense at the time. The sky was slowly turning into a hazy grey. Still no snow.

Helaina got home from work in the early afternoon and by then it was considerably more threatening. I encouraged her to head back right away rather than risk getting stuck. No sooner had she left than Rachael called. Rachael was just leaving work as well, which was about about forty miles away. She said there was already two inches of snow on the ground and sounded disgusted. As I hung up the phone, snow was began falling at home too. Ten minutes later, Helaina calls and says it’s really piling up where she’s driving.

By the time Rachael pulled in, it was coming down at a pretty good pace. Rachael came in and It was one of the few times I’ve seen her rattled. She spent almost twice the time getting home compared to what it usually took her. Her experience sounded like the highway equivalent of my grocery store adventure, but slipperier and less visibility. I waited for Helaina’s call letting me know she had made it safely, which, thankfully, wasn’t too long after. It was a huge relief to me.

There's something comforting about being inside, watching inclement weather from the safety of the nice warm home. I’ve always loved watching thunderstorms in the summer or snow is coming down in the winter, as long as everyone is safe. Now, with Rachael safe at home and Helaina safe at her boyfriends, it was time to relax.