Life In the Icebox

A lot of this country is experiencing record-breaking snowfalls and cold temperatures. I cannot begin to match my friend Tani in Minneapolis, but central Ohio has not been a cakewalk. Let's just say that I have been pretty housebound—albeit not entirely housebound—since last Saturday. 

The snow came in mostly on Sunday, with our area getting 11+ inches. A lot of other places got a lot more snow, but they can keep that record. The bigger issue here is the extreme cold. Way cold. Again, other places are colder, but it is no small deal when the morning temperature is -7, as it was yesterday.

And that was not the coldest place we were yesterday. Warren does business with a small metal plating shop in Piqua, Ohio, and had bars to pick up. We drove over yesterday morning, leaving here around 6:30 a.m. and arriving there just before 8:00. The roads were in pretty decent shape (we took US 36 over); drivers were nonetheless driving carefully. ODOT trucks were dropping salt on the highway the farther west we went. 

Our car tracks the outside temperature and is usually within one or two degrees of any electronic board showing the temperature. So we watched it as we drove: -7, -3, -11. -8. The temps went up and down often in response to whether we were near water, for example, or passing by a large field. When we got to our destination, the temperature read -16.

-16.

And that was without any wind chill. 

In short, pretty darn cold. 

We had deliberately planned to stop for breakfast at a small diner, The Farmer's Daughter, that we have passed each time we make the trip to Piqua. The diner is on the main street of Urbana, Ohio, a small community we keep telling ourselves we need to come back and explore one of these days. (Not right now, trust me.) After getting the bars loaded, we headed east and to breakfast.

We had suspected the diner was either a community hub or had excellent food or both. It was both. Breakfast was excellent and plentiful. I enjoyed watching diners coming in and greeting one another and exchanging talk about the temperatures, what was closed, how they were staying warm. As all schools in most of the state are closed because of the extreme temperatures, parents and children or parents and teens also came in, adding to the talk. It was the kind of place where regulars were comfortable stepping into the coffee/drink area to chat with a staffer. 

And it was the kind of place where the owners recognized they had an older clientele and had handicap grab bars in both of the bathroom stalls in the women's bathroom. Be still my heart! 

When the waitress brought us our bill and asked us how the food was, we praised everything. She talked about how much of their baked goods they do right next door in a bakery the diner owns. I commented on the sourdough toast I had ordered with my plate, adding I had chosen it because I bake too. She lit up. "We're looking for a part-time baker," she said, laughing because she knew how far we had come that morning. "Might be a bit of a drive..."

 Yep, might be. But as I told Warren as we drove home, if we did live in Urbana, I'd be tempted to apply for that job. Not because I need to earn income, not because I am bored with my life, but because being part of that community would be fun. 

While I finish typing this, the sun is shining brightly. Our backyard, which I can view out my second floor study window, is a long wash of shining snow and tree shadows. It is 18 out, a veritable heat wave. But worry not, that's only for now. Predicted low tonight? -6.

Life in the icebox continues.