The first year we went to Alabama for Christmas, we got about 10 minutes from my sister's house and it started snowing. I was relieved we were almost there. Bobby sighs, looks at me, and says, "If these keeps up, I'm turning around in the next driveway and we're heading home." WHAT?!?!?! We've just driven 12+ hours and we're almost there!!!! Let's just say neither one of us was very happy with the other the remainder of that drive.
Fast forward a few years, and we're arriving in Tennessee to spend an evening and morning with his sister before heading to be with my family for Christmas. We play with the kids, eat supper, call around to find a hotel, look out the window and it's snowing. BIG HUGE snowflakes coming down very hard and fast. We upset his sister by heading to the hotel so Bobby could rest a little before we headed on to Alabama.
This year we have Christmas caroling planned for Saturday and ...it's supposed to snow. Not only that, but there is a possibility of snow in Asheville next week, where we were going to stop and break our long trip into two not quite as long trips. Bobby's now laughing that we may not get to go to Alabama at all. I simply informed him that as he could now fit in my vehicle (which is why we bought it), I would simply load up, throw him in the front seat and surround him with pillows and off we go! I think that thought was more horrifying to him than driving that monstrous van through snow!
So I'm contemplating snow while attempting to address Christmas cards which is turning me into a Scrooge with each address that I can't find, and wondering how on earth his tradition of sending Christmas cards ever became my responsibility. Long marriages are wonderful, but they do bring about a lot of strange transitions. Snow cream anyone?