Mid-week we flew to Oregon, the whole family.
I had to be here for an all-day meeting Friday (today, as you read this), and had planned on spending a full day Thursday in the office pressing flesh and networking (it’s a verb). But, none of that (including Friday’s all-day manager-moot) happened, or is going to happen (this writing about the future knowing it’ll be the present is hard). See, Portland got some snow. A dusting, really; a winter’s pittance. It melted, in fact, completely away by a few hours before noon. While it stuck, however, it made for a beautiful morning. I love the way snow lines up on the limbs of trees, thin little piles. Keaton woke up and looked out the large picture windows at the front of my folks’ place in wonder. We made plans to make a snowman if it kept coming down, if it stuck around long enough.
But it didn’t. By noon it was sunny and the snow had melted off the roofs and was dripping off the eaves and down the downspouts. By noon it was a perfect day for walk outside or a pickup game.
But there was snow. It did snow. And Portland doesn’t do snow. The powers that be at the sawmill, the same ones who flew me up here to spend two days meeting and greeting and talking, called off the whole deal. “Don’t come into work,” they said. “Stay at home where it’s safe and don’t get on the death-trap skating-rink roads,” they said. So I did. I mean, why wouldn’t I? Every trip to Oregon is double-your-pleasure for me anyway – half work and half weekending with the folks (the benefit of your folks living near the local sawmill). Now this one becomes no work and all weekending. Not a bead deal. I’ll still have to work, but not a bad deal at all.
But really; people flew here from halfway around the world for this meeting to instead stay inside and cower at the melt-as-they-fall flakes.