Blizzard on I-80

I realized that I said I was going to blog about my road trip to Wyoming but never got around to it. In the post-holiday boredom I thought it was a good time to catch up…. actually I am just avoiding doing dishes.

I got up early and drove north of the 15 for a long long long time. That part of the trip was both uneventful and somewhat boring. Don’t get me wrong-I love to drive. I mean I really love to drive, however sometimes it gets quite lonely. Nevertheless I had my podcasts and overactive imagination to keep me company.

South of Salt Lake the rain started and was very heavy. Not a big deal as I am a capable of driving a Saturn through wind, sleet, rain, and snow (much like the postal service). Once I turned east on the 80 things got a little more treacherous. As I climbed in elevation towards Parley’s summit the torrential rain turned into a blizzard of epic proportions. Not far out of Salt Lake I saw a sign that said, “Chains Required”. Now, most of you may know that when there is a sign requiring chains you do one of two things; either pull over and put on your chains or turn around. I chose option three: keep driving like I hadn’t seen the signs. After all the sign was not very specific…it didn’t say, “Hey, any cars that are very light and are built out of plastic parts like Legos this sign also applies to you”. At the very least I thought that if chains were really required then there would be someone checking to make sure stupid people followed the rules. Needless to say, no one stopped me.

I kept driving in the left lane following the row of cars up the summit towards the Wyoming border. As I was driving the snow was incredible, if you’ve never driven in a snowstorm then this is impossible to describe because the sense of isolation is tremendous. The snow is mesmerizing as it comes right at the car and then swoops around the windshield at the last second. It looks a lot like “Warp Speed Chewy” mode from the original Star Wars. Added to the hypnotic flakes is the absolute darkness of the world around, as the snow blankets the sky and ground the only illumination comes from the headlights that light up the flakes like a wall about 5 feet in front of the vehicle and occasionally there is a street light that makes a cone of white blizzard that reminds me of a glitter lava lamp.

After what seemed like a lifetime, I started to notice a few things, the roads were getting more slippery, the snow was getting thicker, the trucks had all pulled to the side of the road, there were not lights on the west bound side of the road, and all of the cars that were the same size as mine were stuck at varying degrees of haphazardness in the right lanes of the interstate. I knew that as long as I kept driving then I wouldn’t get stuck and wouldn’t have to explain to some patronizing and overly concerned good ol’ boy that I ignored the chains warning. So I stayed behind the SUV I had been following and just kept creeping along. The long line of cars was going approximately 5 miles an hour... sometimes hitting top speeds of 7 mph. As the line got closer to the summit it thinned out and the cars that had 4 wheel drive speed off to Evanston and I was left with the handful of semi trucks that were still creeping along and a whole lot of nothing.

This is when the crazy set in. I was terrified that I would get stuck and not be able to get unstuck before someone rammed into my car. I just kept thinking about possible heroic deeds that I would have to perform to get out of these horrible death inducing scenarios. I settled that if I got stuck I would use the car mats as traction and just leave them on the road somewhere in east Utah. All I could focus on was; keep driving, keep driving, keep driving, keep driving. If there had been a snapshot of that moment I would be headed toward bedlam for sure; wearing my traveling clothes (flip-flops, pajama pants, old t-shirt, ugly brown sweater), a death grip on the steering wheel, no sound, no distractions, rocking back and forth, muttering to myself and paranoid searching for cars that would probably kill me if for some reason I got stuck.

Fast-forward about 3 hours of this rocking and muttering and I realized that I had another crisis; I had drunk a very large Diet Coke about 5 hours before and now bladder capacity was reaching threat level midnight. Again, so many scenarios flew through my mind most of them ending in death by freezing, being hit by a semi, or dying of carbon monoxide inhalation from being trapped a snow bank and running my engine (curse you Hunter’s Safety classes in middle school!). I had come to two options; the first (which was becoming more and more of a possibility) was just peeing and then cleaning it up later when I was not in a death or death situation, the second was to pull of the road and hope that I wouldn’t get stuck. After about an hour of deliberation (and 20 miles or so of road) I couldn’t hold it anymore. By this time there was no one around. No semis, no d-bags in giant pick-ups, no one! Pulling over was dangerous because I was worried that I wouldn’t get going again and would have to employ the car mat crisis procedure. I saw a bridge up ahead and realized this may be my only chance at relief. I pulled into the right lane and stopped. Not on the shoulder, not in the barrow pit, IN THE RIGHT LANE. I opened my door put one foot out and took care of business quickly. Needless to say it’s not every day my bare behind is in a blizzard. Luckily, I had stopped under the bridge so it didn’t take much to get going again and I just kept driving.

I finally had driven the 120 miles or so to Evanston and pulled over there after calling WyoRoads to find out that 80 was closed for the next 100 miles or so. I got a motel room and settled in for the night. The next morning, I got up at 6 and followed the plows out on a clear morning that can only happen in the high dry mountain ranges of Wyoming. The dry snow crunched and squeaked…but more than that it sparkled like someone had flung glitter over the hills and valleys. There are few sights that are more breath taking than freshly fallen snow on a day when the sky is achingly blue and there is nothing buy white in every direction as far as the eye can see. It seems like the whole world has been washed clean and can start over new. The air has a crisp quality about that burns the lungs but also makes you want to breath deep as if you could inhale the freshness and turn it into something tangible. It makes you want to live a little closer to the Earth and spend more time out side where the distractions are less engaging and the quiet moments stretch to span hopes and dreams.

When Are the Tadpoles Coming?

When are the tadpoles coming I wonder?
What is this package under the tree?
Ohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohno Oh NO!


When are the tadpoles coming I wonder?

While futzing online during my trip to Wyboring, I decided that it would be a good idea to order the tadpoles I have been promising the students since the beginning of school. In the spring, 2nd grade studies complete and incomplete metamorphosis so I thought it would be fun to have tadpoles. Usually I have this grand idea in May when it is far to late for them to metamorphasize before school comes to an end. Anyway, I order the tadpoles and expect that a certificate for live specimens will be sent and that I will mail that when I get back to San Diego I can mail in the certificate and the tadpoles will come just in time for school to start again. This is the way it worked in my head....

I returned home on the 25th and was wondering when exactly the tadpole certificate would arrive. I chalked up this delay to the fact that it was Christmas week and the shipping people may be off or it got stuck in the Christmas package rush. No big deal, the kids aren't coming back until the 3rd.

What is this package under the tree?

On Monday, the 27th, I wake up ready to get my life in order. I decided the best idea was to take all of my stuff that has piled up in the living room to the basement and therefore at least the living room will be less cluttered even if I don't get the basement completely cleaned. I am gathering the little piles of things that Catherine so carefully stashes when she finds my junk scattered high and wide. I am ever so gently shoving things into bags and taking them downstairs. I get to the tree and find a present (oooooh unexpected) with my name on it and a package under that present from THE FROG COMPANY!

Ohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohnoohno Oh NO!

This package is SUPPOSED to be a certificate NOT the tadpoles!!!! I immediately drop everything grab the package, that is on it's side, and hustle to the kitchen. I grab a knife and hastily open the package. In it I find the container, special sand, food, AND two desperate looking tadpoles (I am inferring their desperation). I know that I can't put them in regular water and the booklet (which is trying way too hard to be cute and provides very little actual information) says I need "Spring Water"....this goes against my water buying philosophy but we are talking about LIFE OR DEATH. I grab my keys and rush to the door. I drive in a fluster to Vons and jump out of my car. It is at this point that I look down and realize that even though it's about 2pm I am dressed in slippers, pajama pants, a teal t-shirt, and a brown jacket with lime green buttons. I also haven't showered in like 4 days and still have the travel look still from plane ride 2 days before. Needless to say, I am looking rough.

Abandoning my vanity (ha), I grab two gallons of "Spring Water" and a liter of Diet Coke (on account of) and rush back to the house. I quickly pour the water into their container then empty the tadpoles from their shipping containers into their new home. I finally take a deep breath and realize that I haven't really taken one since finding the package. I am convinced that these tadpoles will not survive as they are both looking very ill and laying on their sides at the bottom of their home. I then read and re-read the FAQs section on their website and they said that this lack of liveliness is normal....of course I am convinced that my tadpoles are special in every way INCLUDING the fact that they are more sick than any tadpole has every been in the history of all tadpoles.

Luckily after about an hour they started to perk up. As of today they are doing fine. I am now very concerned that they will be frogs before next Monday when the kids will get to witness the miracle of metamorphosis. It is very cold in our house so hopefully that will slow them down a little bit. When Catherine got home I asked her when exactly the package got there, she didn't know but thinks it was sometime before Christmas. So really there are two Christmas Day Miracles here, one that the USPS actually works sometimes and the other is that my Superior-In-Every-Way Tadpoles are of such resolute determination and upstanding moral fiber that they can survive anything...hopefully that includes 2nd graders.

Look you can see its little leggies!

Another one of the same tadpole. This one is a littler dark and more developed than the other one.

This one has little tiny leggies and is lighter. Oh my heck!

Baby Killer

Today I went to school to check on my fish tank. I had a pretty bad ich infestation before break and wanted to do damage control (ie. replacing the dead fish) before the kids got back and started asking questions about where exactly their favorite fish were. I fed them and was watching them like I often do when I should be doing something far more productive. I put a chunk of food in and then lifted the lid to separate it so the little guys could get some too…often Big Red is too pushy to let the little guys get their fair share.

When I lifted up the lid, I noticed that there was a very large nasty looking cluster of small egg things above on the underside of the hood. Please don’t judge the next few decisions I made, or if you do judge keep in mind the cockroach infection of 2009 and the fact that I watched the old Willy Wonka a lot when I was a kid and this looked like something that would be in the scary acid-trip tunnel on their way to the Inventing Room. Anyway I, being a mature and responsible adult, promptly stuck my finger in it. I was amazed that it was basically a hard outer shell with a gooey inside. This really grossed me out so being convinced that this was some sort of cockroach infestation I poked it with a pencil until it fell into a cup. Then deciding that I didn’t want to have cockroaches in my class (in case they hatched in the trash can) I went to wash them down the sink, but that idea was dismissed when I realized that I would have to squish them down the drain and I didn’t really want to touch this mass again…especially since it was probably cockroach babies waiting to jump out onto me and give me enough fodder for nightmares that I would never sleep again. After eschewing the drain and the trash can, I decided that I would throw them outside and hope they died in the elements. I opened the door (that won’t stay open) and was holding on to it as I flung the mass out of the cup and it ever so gracefully flew across the sidewalk and splattered right before the rail.

Having convinced myself that the impact would probably kill whatever was growing inside I returned to the tank and all of a sudden remembered that before Christmas break the snails in my tank had been “playing” a lot. Apparently, I had been inadvertently letting my students watch hours of snail porn. They thought it was funny how one liked to ride on the other one’s shell. According to wikianswers this is how they mate and the large glob of eggs were probably snail eggs. How was I to know that this type of snail lays their eggs out of the water…after all they live in the water all the time!

"Look the little brown one is riding on the yellow one."

"They must be good friends to be playing so nicely"

So in less than a minute my freaking out because of the gooey cockroach eggs turned into freaking out because I had probably killed all of the little baby snails that my snails had so lovingly conceived in a public venue. So then I went back outside armed with a piece of paper and the cup that was previously mentioned. I scraped the blob (now not quite so cluster shaped and quite a bit more slimy) and fixed what I hope will be a nice little home for the little guys in 2-3 more weeks. That is if they survive the poking, screaming, pushing, flinging, scraping, and relocating.

This is what the eggs looked liked. This is not my image as you can imagine mine look a lot more like this...