I woke up a little after 1 a.m. today with a sick feeling in my stomach.
Not a feeling of dread about the incoming blizzard or some work-related worry needling its way into my sleep pattern.
It was an honest-to-goodness real feeling in my stomach that I was about to be sick.
I'll spare you the details of what happened over the course of the next half hour but, for the sake of clarity, I will say it wasn't pretty.
I was still a little shaky this morning until I had a few sips of soda pop.
For some reason, a sip of cola seems to be the only sure-fire way to calm my stomach when it's that upset. It does the trick when water, juice and other beverages make me gag.
It was my need for a soda pop that led to this story.
It was like deja vu all over again.
During the Christmas blizzard of 2009, my desire for a soda pop led to the first "When Rednecks Meet Whiteouts" adventure.
While our fridge is generally stocked with bottled tea and Mt. Dew (both of which I find repulsive), I rarely keep my soda pops of preference -- Diet Coke, Diet Pepsi or Sprite -- on hand. It's too much of a temptation.
But last night, when I began feeling sick, I really needed one to keep me hydrated and to keep me from getting shaky.
The problem was the stores weren't open, and we were on the verge of another all-out blizzard.
I made do with a sip of water but, as soon as my husband climbed out of bed, I said, "Get the truck fired up. You're taking me to Casey's."
He looked at me as if I'd gone mad. By 8:30 a.m., the snow outside our patio door had drifted to above my shins, and I'd just finished a phone interview with the city administrator, who told me the plows weren't going out until the storm died down a bit.
We won't even discuss the visibility.
But my husband, being the brave and wonderful person he is, shrugged his shoulders and said, "If that's what you want."
About ten minutes later, I was walking out the door, trying my best to follow the tracks he had left in the snow. But in the 10 minutes it took to warm the truck, the wind and snow had nearly erased all traces of his footsteps, and I was sinking knee-deep in drifts across our driveway.
This ought to be fun.
We've learned two things from our previous experience of driving through a blizzard to get a soda pop.
1. Once you start moving, don't stop unless you absolutely have to (or unless you find yourself headlights-deep in a snowbank).
2. Avoid the upper portion of Sunset Street at all costs (unless you really want to get stuck headlights deep in a snowbank).
I bet you thought I was going to say we disregarded what we'd learned.
Not at all.
With the exception of the clerk at Casey's asking in a roundabout way if we were crazy (she asked if I was planning to go out on the highway in a tone that suggested we were insane for even venturing out), our soda pop run was blissfully uneventful this time.
Despite the deepening snow.
Despite the extremely reduced visibility.
Despite the warnings about Snowmageddon 2016.
I did, however, learn one thing: The next time there's a blizzard in the forecast, I'm stocking up on soda pop.
Just in case.
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