Sheleg!

Since the U.S. found itself in the midst of the second "polar vortex" of 2014 this past week, I thought it might be fun to revisit some photos and memories from mid-December that I never got around to posting here. 

As the winter season began, our Hebrew instructor provided us with some weather terminology.  It was cute when she taught us the word for snow, שֶׁלֶג (pronounced "sheleg"), because none of us thought we would be needing it here in Jerusalem.  Sure, it snowed last year, but that had to be a fluke, right?    

Wrong.  Beginning the week of December 8th, various news sources began reporting on the probability of snow.  I awoke each morning hoping to find, at minimum, a light dusting of white powder outside my window.  Every morning was fraught with disappointment.  I awoke at 7AM Thursday, December 12th, only to be disappointed once again.

I begrudgingly began the process of getting ready for work at a turtle's pace, a slow process underlined moreso by the speed and efficiency with which TJ awoke and scurried out the door.  By 7:20 he had returned, covered in snow.  I looked outside again, and in the span of twenty minutes, the ground was almost completely covered.  We received a management notice advising of a two hour delay in business operations, but it arrived so late that we knew some folks had to be in transit already.  As we lived within walking distance of work, TJ ran ahead to open the building so that any early arrivals would have a warm place to await further instruction.  I opted for a more lackadaisical course of action and meandered around the neighborhood a bit, capturing the moment for posterity.  I mean, who knew how long it would last?  

By the time I arrived at the office shortly before 9AM, the answer to that question was obvious:  It would be lasting quite a while.  The wind had kicked up, the snow was falling faster with every passing moment, and the temperature was dropping.  Even so, we were right in assuming that many of our employees had been in transit when the management notice went out:  about half of our local staff, and all but one American, were in the office.  Some of our visa and passport applicants had also decided to brave the elements, which just goes to show that a consular section's work is never done!  

Ten o'clock arrived, and instead of a delayed start, it brought news of a full-blown office closure. 

While TJ assisted in closing down business operations and assisting the handful of clients in our waiting room, I mad a mad dash for home.  (Okay, okay, I'm not a snow pro.  It was more like a haphazard waddle.)

This wasn't about leaving work as quickly as possible to go enjoy the weather…this was a matter of survival.  You see, Jerusalem shuts down mid-day on Friday for the Jewish observance of the Sabbath.  This means that most grocery stores and restaurants (and certainly all within walking distance to us) are closed before sunset on Friday through after sunset on Saturday.  If inclement weather was going to force businesses to close early on Thursday, we didn't want to find ourselves trapped at home with nothing to eat or drink for, at minimum, 48 hours.  I made it home, hopped in the car, and slowly crept toward the store.  The streets weren't too slippery yet, and there weren't many cars on the road.  Leave it to the government to always release its employees early…it didn't appear that too many people had caught on to the fact that shelegmageddon was approaching.  It made for one of the more pleasant food shopping experiences I've had here.

Safely back at home, I moseyed outside to a nearby park and promptly set to work on a most important task:  Reviving Bernard!  (You knew that was coming, right?)

Satisfied with my handiwork (which received the admiration of numerous neighborhood kids and their parents, let me tell you!), I returned home and waited for TJ to return.  Return he did, and it wasn't long before we were out and about, exploring the promenade, which overlooks Jerusalem's Old City.  

Due to weather conditions, it wasn't possible to get a clear shot of the Old City in all of its snow-covered glory at the time of our visit to the park, but this panoramic is nice all the same, no?  Here's a great photo from the New York Daily News that has been accredited to Darren Whiteside/Reuters.  A high quality zoom lens would give you a similar shot, albeit from a different angle, from my vantage point on that snowy day.   

We made jolly in our attempts to pose for pictures, throw snowballs, and make snow angels.  But only for a few minutes.  It was cold.  Very cold.  And wet.  And we Florida boys had not arrived in Jerusalem sufficiently prepared for snow.  Poor Zelda, with her short, thin coat of hair, appeared even less prepared than us!

TJ and I have since ordered rain/snow boots, should such an event occur next year.  Zelda didn't order any protective gear, but has expressed desire to just not have it snow anymore, please and thank you.

The snow lasted through Sunday, melting off just enough to resume work bright and early Monday morning…but not enough to prevent me from busting my butt on the way into the office.

Sigh.

Snow Buddies 2: The Sequel

***We interrupt this important birthday blogging event to bring you 

a special report on weather in the Washington, D.C. area.***

When we first moved to Falls Church in February 2010, I found myself telecommuting back to my old job in Orlando and feeling very lonely and fish-out-of-watery while TJ spent his days learning Spanish and hobnobbing with diplomats at the Foreign Service Institute.  One of my coping mechanisms was to build a snowman named Bernard on our balcony.  He kept me company as I worked (or, more accurately, pretended to work).  He eventually died. It was sad.

He was a good snowman. Not too big, not too small.  Never one to put on airs, yet always stylish, he had a dapper dish towel for a scarf.  I always promised that, if I were to find myself back in the D.C. area for winter, I would bring him back to life, all Frosty Returns style.

To my immense joy, we arrived in October, just before prime snowman season began. Sadly, anticipation for Bernard's return diminished quickly as the winter months passed without much snow.  Imagine my surprise when, just days after the start of the spring season, the Metro D.C. area was bombarded with snow.

I returned from work this afternoon (Yes.  The Office of Personnel Management, which likes to cancel work at the drop of a hat if the weatherman even hints at snow, failed to call it a snow day when there was actually white stuff on the ground) and quickly surveyed my surroundings.  There was no balcony snow.  This wasn't good, as I don't trust ground snow. I mean, I have two dogs.  I know what happens on the ground.  Taking stock of the situation, I noticed a large concentration of accumulation on  the stair railings.  Emptying my insulated lunch bag of its tupperware and utensils, I quickly filled it to capacity with rail snow and scurried up the stairs to create life.

The results were dazzling.

He was magnificent....and yet, I noticed immediately that he had begun to piddle on the pavement.  It simply wasn't cold enough to keep him alive.  Not so easily defeated, I concocted a counter maneuver.  Mother Nature ain't got nuthin' on me.

When TJ returned form work this afternoon, I threw open the freezer door in triumph.  He stared for a moment and then let out a raucous laugh.  I think he was pleased.  He knows how much I enjoyed Bernard's company, and I think he was happy to see him again as well.

Of course, I don't think he knows that Bernard has moved in permanently.  We will deal with that tomorrow.

Requiem for a Snowman

Growing up in a rural area, my parents had the opportunity to flirt with the farmer's life a bit. From time to time we maintained a garden and owned the occasional goat or cow. An important lesson from that time period was not to name your livestock, because it creates an attachment that makes eating or selling said livestock harder at a later date.

Nobody ever told me that you shouldn't name a snowman. Poor Bernard. Silly to be so sad about losing him, but working from home gets lonely. It was nice to be able to open the blinds and see him staring at me from the balcony.

Working from home has its advantages. I get to keep my job, my insurance, and my tenure. I don't have to deal with the hassle of finding a new occupation in an unstable economy. I was able to move to DC without feeling like I had given up my entire existence.

There is another side to this coin, though. I am at home more often than not. When TJ wants to stay in and relax, I'm antsy and eager to get out of the house. By keeping my current job, I maintain contact with my old friends and coworkers but do not have the opportunity to find new ones that I can actually interact with socially. Not having to commute is preventing me from learning the lay of this new land.

And did I mention that the isolation is causing me to talk to snowmen?

Snow Buddies

Being in DC has been an...interesting experience so far. I spent the first 23 years of my life living in Central Texas, and during that time, I only saw a significant amount of snow once. I was five years old, and the snow fell overnight. I woke up and there was a thick layer of white on the ground. I remember a snowman, but don't recall whether or not I had a hand in his creation, or if it was just something my father made for me. I spent Thanksgiving 2002 in Boston, MA. There was a very light snow that preceded my arrival, and, prior to meeting up with a friend for a Blue Man Group show, I managed to cobble up a 12 inch snow/mud monster. Not very attractive, but there wasn't much snow to work with.

The last seven years of my life have been spent in Orlando, and again little-to-no snow. During a business trip to Mason, OH in late 2009, I did see the tiniest bit of snow, this time not even enough to make a snow/mud monster.

So, here I am. February 2010, and up to my knees (literally) in snow. On Day one, TJ and I took a leisurely stroll around the White House and Washington Monument. Beautiful structures in their own right, made even more beautiful by the white powder threatening to overtake them. After taking a few photos, I thought it might be fun to actually build a snowman. With knee-deep snow, I only managed a basketball-sized bottom layer before deciding to throw it at TJ instead. Thus a snowball fight ensued. It was not to last very long. TJ is brutal and apparently quite adept at the hit and run strategy.

Afterwards, we abandoned such frivolous pursuits in favor of some culture, and spent the afternoon at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. Over the next several days, we were kept busy by the arts, catching a showing of "Disney On Ice" at DC's Verizon Center and "Sweeney Todd" at Arlington's Signature Theatre. Between these adventures, and settling in after the move, thoughts of snowmen soon disappeared. And yet...

Today, a little after 11am, Bernard the Snowman, who lives on my balcony, was born.