On the Sunday a week before yesterday, Michigan weathered The Great Snow.
This particular snowstorm came to southeastern Michiganders in various tiers of blessing, and my town lay in the largest and apparently most favored tier, on which the flakes piled eleven to sixteen inches high.
My company opted for a delayed open, which meant that I could actually get out of my apartment complex since my car was buried in snow up to my knees and therefore only had to slog through about six inches of that nonsense since my complex got plowed at 9, which is usually when I have to be there. Also, any opportunity to sleep in is glorious and I took this one with relish.
The drive to work was actually pleasant, once I managed, between strategically flooring and releasing the accelerator and then wrestling my car into steering straight, to get it out of its snowy crevice.
For the most part, anyway:
Hometown, I want to love you, but I’m having a LOT of trouble with that right now.
Margaret and I met for brunch on Saturday and it was delightful. We have one of Michigan’s best cities as a halfway point between us, which makes it fun and easy to find places to go. This time we went to Zola Bistro, where M got an omelet and I got a strawberry banana crêpe, which were both absolutely delectable.
“It’s hard to make friends as an adult,” M said, and she’s right; I’ve struggled with this ever since college and especially since moving back to metro Detroit. I can’t explain how good it feels to the depths of my soul that M and I live close enough to meet somewhat regularly. Life has been busy for us both lately, but it was good to catch up and discuss the challenges we’re working through and the new opportunities we’ve received.
After brunch with M, I went over to my brother’s house, where I found this in the driveway…
…and with that, you’ve seen the extent of my Valentine’s celebrations.
I followed this up with nearly 24 straight hours of ALL THE YOUTH MINISTRY THINGS: a dodgeball tournament, which is hilarious because dodgeball may well comprise in entirety the list of Sports I Neither Like Nor Understand*; regular Sunday morning activities; a Jamaica trip meeting; and a staff potluck.
Smashed halfway through all that was a contemplative lunch at Subway, where I was too restless to nail down what was stirring in my soul, but I spilled all that in my journal last night after watching Downton Abbey, which, if I might interrupt myself for an apostrophe: Edith, it was about darn time.
The second thing, not the first thing, I mean. The first thing I am not sure will solve anything but I guess we’ll see how it all turns out.
How was your weekending?
*My aversion to dodgeball is entirely a response to my experiences playing in elementary school and more specifically to those with whom I played it.