Sunday dawned just as lovely as every day in Pennsylvania has been so far—and I was quite excited to meet one of my best bloggy friends—Jen Rants & Raves. I jumped behind the wheel of my zippy red Hyundai Santa Fe and cranked up the tunes. An hour and 45 minutes fairly flew by as I rejoiced in singing aloud with nobody to criticize me for only knowing half the words to all the songs.
Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic, but doesn’t this look like an impressionist painting to you? The soft browns and grays set off by the pale blue sky? Lovely, I thought. Jen didn’t actually laugh in my face when I mentioned this, but I believe that several months of bitter cold may have dimmed her ability to see the beauty in this scene.
We met at Max and Erma’s, in Cranberry, at noon. A couple of hours later the waitressed stopped by to say goodbye as her shift was over. Not that she was rushing us. Close to four hours after that we realized that people were actually waiting to be seated for dinner and that as we closed in on our sixth hour of sitting at the same table it might be time for us to give somebody else a chance.
Jenn and Jen
We never did make it to the Carnegie museum as per our original plan. But that’s okay—who needs fine art when you have fine friends? I’ve said before that their can be magic to meeting someone you know through their writing/blog—it’s just like meeting an old friend you haven’t seen in a while, and picking up where you left off.
Sometimes I think of what I would have missed if I never started blogging—and what I think about is the smart, thoughtful, introspective and just plain amazing women like Jen that I might never have known. Separated by thousands of miles, but with so much in common and so much to talk about. Thanks, internet.* And thanks, Jen.
Well, that was the blog friends portion of the title; onto the near-blizzard part:
When I checked the forecast in the morning the evening hours showed the possibility of a “light wintry mix.” Having driven through “snow flurries” yesterday I deemed “light wintry mix” within my capabilities.
It just started snowing as we left the restaurant and I had to snap this shot of the car window. Purty, isn’t it?
It went downhill from there.
I crept along the 79 north; every time I though it couldn’t snow harder and visibility could not decrease more the weather gods threw back their heads and cackled wickedly. Then they made it snow more and the visibility decrease further.
About an hour in I weighed my options. First up was a full-fledged panic attack. The prospect was attractive, but I just couldn’t figure out how it would improve my situation.
Next was pulling over, flagging down another car and begging someone in the car to drive my car for me. It was snowing too hard for anyone to see me waving my arms and bawling though. Plus, it would be really cold.
Third—I know two people in Erie; both of them college water polo coaches. Would the Mercyhurst coach think I was a full-on looney-tunes if I asked him to have his pregnant wife drive him an hour down the highway in a snowstorm in order to escort me safely to my hotel? I think we could safely say, “yes,” he would think I was looney-tunes.
In the end I went with the option that was both the most terrifying and sensible. I white-knuckled it. The tension in my back should dissipate in about a week (unless I can get my hands on a Valium and a masseuse). How do you people do this on a regular basis?!
My first clue that perhaps I wasn’t just a wimp was an email from Jen who wanted to make sure I made it okay because of the terrible visibility. The second clue was a check of weather.com which showed “severe weather conditions,” “heavy snow,” and “dangerous driving conditions” in this area. Oy!
That said, would I do it again if it meant lunch with Jen? You betcha.
See you back in sunny San Diego!
There’s another blogging Jennifer I’ve been lucky enough to meet in person (twice)—and I’m trying to figure out a way to get the three of us Jennifers in the same room. Now that would be a meeting of the minds.
