No fair, I wasn’t ready

It’s not nice to surprise a middle-aged woman.

I was caught unprepared, unaware, unbuttoned.

Somebody mentioned some “nasty weather” might be coming our way. I hadn’t paid much attention really. I suppose that’s my fault. Hey, I wasn’t the only one.

Like most people I was basking in the relatively mild weather. Caught blissfully between fall and the start of “real” winter, I didn’t mind the chill in the air. The snow had only been teasing us — until Monday.

Oblivious, I ventured into the grocery store after work. A few scattered flakes danced in the darkness. Nothing threatening, I assumed. Big mistake.

By the time I came out of the store — only 15 minutes after one or two backtracks to the produce section and the meat case — the wind had picked up considerably. I was stunned by how quickly and completely the dancing snowflakes had become a real blizzard. Ah, but home was only a half dozen blocks away.

I hustled home and hauled the groceries inside. I quickly stashed the stuff in the fridge and freezer and loaded the washer and dryer and made a pit stop in the bathroom — the usual afterwork routine for Moms on the go.

A quick glance outside the window convinced me my kids wouldn’t want to walk home in this — even just a couple blocks. I bustled back out to my van — parked in the driveway. Five minutes sitting outside in the storm and my windshield needed to be scraped. I had trouble seeing the streetlight — a half block away.

Whatever the formula is for an “instant blizzard” — Mother Nature had whipped it up just like that.

Of course, I’d neglected to grab my gloves and I never wear a hat. I was covered in freshly blasted snow and felt both foolish and invigorated. It’s winter survival time and I can survive.

(It’s strange what thoughts can blow through your brain when you’re being pushed around by 40-mph winds.)

Once I jumped inside my van, I felt the damp snow as it’s found its way down the collar of my coat, up my sleeves, into my shoes. Yeah, invigorating and foolish.

I backed out of the driveway —utterly uncertain if there was any traffic on the street. I proceeded with caution and then suspected that all sane people had parked somewhere safe.

I headed west and I couldn’t seem to locate the intersection just a half-block away. After careful navigation, I turned south (at least that’s what the direction readout said on my dash). The wind wrapped the snow around the van and it felt like I was trapped in a wind tunnel — moving backwards. I couldn’t see a thing in front of me. I inched forward and prayed and trusted I was headed in the right direction.

The snow swirled, blinding me. It reminded me of being in open country during a storm. I crossed one street and then another. I pulled into a parking lot and wondered how many other people were caught off guard.

Okay — I got it. I’ll be ready next time. It’s North Dakota and it’s winter — that’s a guarantee there will be a next time.

But do I have to wear a hat??