I really don't want to go anywhere today after hearing yet again about how slick the roads are yet again thanks to a little extra snow. So it's a snow day for me.. even though technically I was already scheduled out at work.
I know that I'd probably be more bitter and jaded if I owned my own home and had to shovel massive amounts of snow off my roof and worry about my furnace working and plumbing freezing up (I still have to worry about those things, it's just not my responsibility to do them or my bill to pay). But I'm just so fricking happy when it snows. And okay, maybe there have been a few times where snow's made me really unhappy-- a postponed semi-formal dance in high school, ruined plans for what turned out to be the last Valentine's day with someone special, canceled opening where one of my pieces was on display.. And missing work/ class due to weather becomes more stressful as you age (missing 8th grade algebra is fun-- trying to reschedule an essay review in grad school is not). Plus driving long distances on bad highways is no picnic-- white knuckling it through the Somerset stretch of the Turnpike in near-white out conditions was something else. But on the balance I just love it when it snows. It's as if some part of my brain regresses to false memories of an idyllic childhood (the kind no one truly has) where real life stops for a while and you just enjoy the peaceful, lovely, wonderful feeling of being surrounded by a marshmallow covered landscape with sugar sprinkling from the sky.
Which is why I made pancakes for breakfast. Hey, I've got nowhere to be, just a list of things I should do like laundry. I didn't completely regress and make dinosaur foot pancakes like la mère used to (which is a true memory), and I gussied them up a little (cornmeal cakes with nutmeg), but still. If only I had hot chocolate mix to complete the illusion.
While I'm happy to be lazing around chez moi, there really is nothing like being in Pittsburgh in the time leading up to a Steelers Super Bowl, and I miss it terribly. I know that I'm horrifically spoiled as a fan because I can make that statement, but it's true. It's just amazing, and here I am in bitter Bawlmer.
This time of year is bittersweet for fans, though. Sure, I'm nervous about the game-- rarely have I been accused of overconfidence-- but I'm also thrilled with a Super Bowl appearance when the best I'd hoped for going into this season was a playoff appearance at all. But the clock is running out on the season-- no more Sundays full of glorious, glorious football until September. Plus, once the teams win the NFC & AFC championships they no longer belong to their fans. They belong to the hype and the media events and the publicity machine and advertising engine that surround the Super Bowl. I'm not sure how I feel about sharing "my" team. And like I've said before, relatively few actual fans of the teams get to make it to the game-- they're far outnumbered by those with tickets bought and paid for out of corporate patronage, the kind of "fans" that will essentially flip a coin to decide what team's jersey they should buy in the merchandise tents. That's so irritating. I mean, fandom involves standing by the team through thick and thin (read: the 70s and 80s), through the good (XLIII), the bad (XXX), and the ugly (a certain quarterback's off-field antics), and (especially for us and GB) regional identity. I certainly don't have a spare five grand burning a hole in my pocket, and I'm in better shape than a lot of people. Though ticket prices are dropping a bit because there aren't a lot of people from Chicago and New York in the hunt...