Driving in the Snow

I do not like driving in the snow.  I blame it on several scary experiences that happened one Thanksgiving about 14 years ago in Vermont and New Hampshire.  (Read: spinning off the road into a mountain, driving through a white out, and sliding down my grandparent's steep driveway while begging dad to let us walk up the hill to the house - "You can't!  I need your weight in the back of the car!")

View from our Apartment

Yesterday we had our first big snowfall of the season.  I typically enjoy the first snow, especially when I'm in the house with a fire going, a good book to read, and a view of the accumulating snow in the yard.  I had all of these when the snow started yesterday; the only problem was the house was not mine.  It was my parents'.

Mom offered to let me spend the night.  But I thought to myself, "The snow isn't too terrible.  It would be silly to stay here when my husband is at home."

So I loaded up the car (I always seem to bring a week's worth of "just-in-case" things to my parents' such as slippers, books, crocheting, computer, mail, etc.) and headed home.

The first few miles were clear enough.  But once I reached downtown, I couldn't see the freeway underneath the snow.  At one point the car in front of me switched lanes, completely covering my windshield with slush, making it impossible to see out the window.  Every time I switched lanes (which was not frequent), I lost traction with the road.

Luckily, most everyone was driving cautiously at about 40 miles per hour.  I say most everyone because there were a few complete idiots who decided to zoom past the rest of us while driving at freeway speeds.

I made it home safely but shaken.  Nate's first response was "She lives!" and a hug as I walked through the front door.  He was then shocked when I started bawling. He tried to calm me down and listened to my tirade against all things cold and wet.  When I told him about the "complete idiots" who were speeding down the road he said, "Oh.  I was one of those."

Apparently our driving styles differ.

Halloween

How do you celebrate Halloween?

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays.  I guess because it is the launching of the holiday season.  The colors are fun, the decorations are cute, and of course the candy and desserts are yummy.

In Utah, Halloween is celebrated on October 31.  Except for years when the 31st falls on a Sunday.  Then we celebrate Halloween on the 30th.  Or we celebrate it both days, to make the joy last longer.  Last year I was excited to hand out candy to all the little trick-or-treaters in my new neighborhood.  I went to the store and bought candy, decorated the front door, and sat back waiting for the treaters to come.  Not a single knock at the door.  Well, it wasn't too surprising since there weren't very many kids in our apartment complex.

This year we are in a new complex and there are a lot of children.  I know.  I've seen them.  So I went to the store and dutifully bought candy to hand out.  But I was perplexed; what day would the trick-or-treaters come?  I knew that in my parents' neighborhood, where the Mormon population is something like 99.99%, trick-or-treating was occurring Saturday night.  But the LDS numbers aren't nearly that high where I live.  I figured we'd probably have trick-or-treaters on Saturday and Sunday night.  So I sat with my bowl full of candy and waited.

While I was waiting, I decided to watch a movie.  Since it was Halloween, the thought entered my mind that I should watch a scary movie.  I quickly nixed that idea.  I hate being scared.  Absolutely hate it.  One year when I was still in school, my roommates and I decided we should watch a scary movie on Halloween.  So we gathered around the TV and watched Signs, a movie I'd seen once before and, although everyone says it is a tame movie, it still scared me.  That Halloween, I intentionally fell asleep during the movie so I wouldn't have to watch those creepy alien fingers reach under the door.

But I digress.  Saturday night, while waiting for trick-or-treaters, I watched a fluffy chick flick.  While it wasn't my favorite movie ever, I didn't have bad dreams.

On the actual Halloween night, Nate was home.  Like me, he wanted to watch a movie while we waited for trick-or-treaters.  Unlike me, he didn't want to stream the movie Babies from NetFlix.  No.  He wanted to watch a scary movie.  He wanted to watch The Sixth Sense.

Apparently, I'm one of the few human beings whose never seen this "classic" as he calls it.  "Katie, it's not that bad!  It's on the same line as Signs and The Others."  Both movies freaked me out when I watched them.  (He made me watch The Others last Halloween.)  I hemmed and hawed for a while, trying to distract him.  Couldn't we just read books instead?  Or write letters?  Or paint our toenails?

Alas, he gave me the most wounded look ever.  "It has never given me nightmares, Katie."  Puppy dog eyes.  I gave in.

I will admit, the movie didn't scare me too badly.  Probably because Nate warned me every time we were about to see a creepy ghost.  And the twist was pretty cool.

But it gave me nightmares.

I dreamed we were putting dead people in walls behind pictures.  Edgar Allan Poe's "The Black Cat" anyone?  Ick.  I woke up very relieved this morning just to be awake.  I've reached my scary movie quota for the year.  Actually, for my entire life, but I think next Halloween I'll have to watch another scary movie with Nate.  I'm already bracing myself for it.

And perhaps next year we'll have trick-or-treaters.  Two days of Halloween this year and not a single knock at the door.  I'll have to send the candy to school with Nate so it will get eaten.  After all, I just found some of last year's candy while I was making dinner tonight.