We had our first of many last week. On Monday, we got hit with about 4 inches legit of snow. My kids immediately went sledding despite having not much snow, not much hill and not much sled. It was fun nonetheless.
We played in it, and then came inside to hot cocoa and cookie baking. It was really beautiful, cozy and very Norman Rockwell-esque.
Until you had to drive in it.
Now I am a salt-seasoned driver. I learned to drive on the potholed roads of lower Michigan--a slippery, slushy, snowy mess nine months out of the year. You can't get your driver's license there without knowing how to successfully navigate icy roads and scrape your windshield with a cassette cover.
I had this.
Until I realized that the state of Tennessee doesn't own snow plows. Or salt trucks. No, the only tool they have in their snow-removal arsenal is the sun, with the hope it melts the white stuff on the ground by rush hour.
Tennesseans are quick to tell you that this is out-of-the ordinary weather for them--that it almost NEVER snows here at all, and if it does, it certainly never sticks.
Tennesseans are liars. Because although they are really wimpy about the snow, they were not surprised by it. And the hardware store on the corner sold snow shovels.
I rest my case.