So, here's something I never thought I'd say:
I am the Snow Queen.
My boss's exact words. And me, raised in Phoenix!
Growing up, I saw snow exactly once a year when we would drive up to Flagstaff to play in it. One year my brother and I built a snow lady. She fell over because she was too top-heavy. But I digress.
When I moved from Phoenix to Chicago with my dad, we saw all this white stuff on the ground as the plane was approaching the city. My father assured me that it couldn't possibly be snow.
It was snow.
A few weeks later I walked half a mile through a blizzard to get to the mall for holiday shopping because I didn't know it was a blizzard.
And now, here in the wilds of rural upstate New York, with all of its wind and cold and its 131 inches of annual snowfall, I am the official, designated, honest-to-God Snow Queen.
My royal duties are appropriately light. I am the authority on whether we open or close in bad weather, based on who's willing to risk their lives to come in. And then I let people know, via two brief emails. Piece of cake, albeit frozen.
I am the Snow Queen. My boss says all I need is a tiara. I am patiently waiting.
Everything has led to this.
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