So Mr. UB and I are heading to Oregon for our first Christmas together. His parents live about 90 minutes outside of Portland, on a Christmas tree farm, in a house that his architect dad built. It is ridiculously pretty. (Would I go nuts if I lived there? Most likely. But it's lovely to visit.) They've had much more snow than usual this year, thanks to the same weather that seems to be everywhere (it's even impacting An Atlanta Bride!) ... and as of a few days ago their yard looked like this:
... and it's just kept snowing. Eleven inches at last count. Apparently they've already moved their truck down to the flat part of the driveway, since there's very little chance of being able to drive it on the iced-over steep part.
So, if our flight is cancelled, we'll have Christmas at the Burbank airport. If we make it to Portland but the roads are impassable, we'll have Christmas in a Portland hotel. And if there's a miraculous thaw, we might actually get to have Christmas where we intended, i.e. with his family. Nothing like a little improvising to keep things interesting.
My favorite ancedote so far: his mom was looking out the window yesterday & commented, "Wow, it's blown a snowdrift right up against the house. That's never happened before." Upon closer inspection, the "snowdrift" turned out to be their dog.