walking ten miles, uphill both ways, in the snow

I have such an understandably California mentality when it comes to weather. It just started snowing again, and from my ninth floor perch in the center of downtown it doesn't look like much -- just swirling dust that's not accumulating. But my mind starts whirling when I think of how the plans I have tonight and tomorrow might be affected by the weather. Will I not be able to walk the mile from the train to my violin lesson? Will I not be able to walk back? Will I not be able to wait outside, in the middle of the freeway, for the train? Will my violin get horribly out of tune just from being outside? Will it be wet? Do my boots have enough traction? Are they waterproof? Am I dressed warm enough?

In college I would miss class, cancel appointments, walk, umbrella in hand, or drive down the street when it rained. Here I have to walk and ride buses and trains like always. I have to get to and from work on time, go to the gym, and once a week I have to get to my violin lesson. My life goes on just as it did in summer and fall, I keep doing what I'm doing regardless of how cold it gets, how high the winds, how icy the sidewalk, how heavy the snow or sleet or rain. I might take a taxi, stand under an awning, or decide to spend a Friday or Saturday night inside. But this day is just a day, and days don't stop even when the weather intervenes.

-----

Despite my general ignorance when it comes to any weather besides rain, I do, however, feel I've become accustomed to my thermometer reading 32 degrees, 28 degrees, and even 20 degrees. There is no more dancing in my room in the morning with long johns in one hand and three pairs of socks in the other, a selection of gloves, mittens, scarves of various degrees of warmth, long-sleeved shirts, sweaters, and knee-high boots strewn at my feet. Whatever I wear -- long-sleeved shirt or sweater or both, mittens or gloves, boots or moccasins, I'll make it to the train and to my office, and by the time 5:00 rolls around, I'll be sweating under my sweaters and long-sleeved shirts, my hair straight from the heating, and it won't be nearly as cold outside. I'm OK now -- the dance will commence again when the highs are in the teens. My California-bred brain might even try to devise ways for me not to go to work or the gym or violin lessons.