I did bake yesterday, but very late in the day, and only after getting caught out in east Portland in the middle of a blizzard. Funny, all my dreams of snow involve me puttering happily in a warm kitchen wearing pajama bottoms and a handknit cardigan, not driving in white-out conditions, with hardly any gas in the tank and crap windshield wipers. The light at SE 122nd and Stark (big intersection) was out, so it literally took us about twenty minutes to to go eight blocks as car after car needed to stop and take its turn. And let me just say, many, many people apparently do not know what to do when the stoplight is not working — they're just, like, driving obliviously through the intersection. Even if you didn't know the treat-it-as-a-four-way-stop rule, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the concept of waiting one's turn. And this was all before the snow. This was in regular weather.
But anyway, I finally get to my destination, just beyond the stoplight, at 1:30 p.m.: Fabric Depot. It's sunny. Perfectly sunny, nothing remarkable, just fine. I go into the Depot and I'm wandering around, get some fabric cut, still wandering when I hear this lady say, "Ohmigoodness! It's totally dark outside!" And we all look up and sure enough, it is dark as twilight. It looks, suddenly, like it's about 5:30. I leave my fabric and go running outside (along with ten other people). It was one of the freakiest things I have ever seen. Snow was blowing everywhere. Snow was piling up on cars and in the parking lot. There was about an inch on the ground. I had a sudden vision of getting snowed or iced in at the Fabric Depot — not the worst thing, but, as I said, all I ever wanted to do was bake, not sew. Last year when ice blew in, the city was shut down for two days. Six miles might as well have been sixty. I quick paid for my stuff, and hightailed it out to my snow-covered car, thinking all the while This probably isn't wise, but. . . . It seemed to be getting worse, but since it had just started I thought it was worth trying to get home. Suddenly Crash! I hear an accident far across the parking lot, horns honking, general pandemonium at the aforementioned intersection. Ugh. It started to hail. But the minute I pulled out onto the road I was strangely calm. I can do this, thought I, bravely.
Reader, I made it. I made it home. I drove for about two miles through the frenzied flakes going 4 m.p.h. (which seemed too fast) and then: Just as suddenly, the snow stopped, the sun came out, everything melted, we sped up to 35 m.p.h., and by the time I'd gone from 122nd Ave. to 82nd Ave., it was like it had never happened. I could not believe it. I turned left and continued on down the road to WinCo, where I got two different kinds of sugar-cookie dough, a huge bag of gumdrops, and a new spatula. And some frozen egg-rolls. I tried to tell Andy about it later, when we both got home from different sides of town (turns out there was nary a flurry on his side), and I could quickly see I would have to work to impress here. If I hadn't seen it myself I might not have believed it, but still. (And, by the way, if you couldn't guess yesterday, it was me nagging him about the vet, him nagging me about the toilet; the bit is gender-neutral and works for anyone, anywhere.) "Dude, seriously, I'm serious, it was totally snowing . . . look!" I said, pointing to a teensy little pile of already-dirty snow leftover around the trunk of a tree. "Wow." "I was really scared! I don't know how to drive in the snow anymore! Somebody crashed! I thought I was going to have to sleepover at Fabric Depot!" "Not the worst thing." "I know, but all I ever wanted to do was . . . nevermind."