D.C. snowstorms are the best

Snow and rulerI woke to find about nine inches of snow had accumulated overnight. That’s the most snow we’ve had all season and the most we’ve had in three years–two of which were less like a traditional D.C. winter and more like a colder version of the Bay Area’s rainy season.

As much as I like the Bay Area’s climate, I love living in a place with distinct seasons that include real winters. And no winter is complete to me without a full-on snowstorm that leaves rads impassable, shuts the airports and frees me to play in the snow–because I am basically eight years old at these times.

Today’s snow isn’t in the same league as the historic snowstorms I’ve seen here, but it will have to do.

1996 blizzard headlineJanuary 1996: This remains a sentimental favorite for how it helped bond me to the District. As the snow started falling, I decided I couldn’t watch it from inside the apartment I’d moved into weeks before. I wandered down from Kalorama to Dupont Circle, made my way to Kramerbooks, bought a copy of Edward P. Jones’ “Lost in the City,” and read his stories of wayward Washingtonians at the bar as the snow laid a hush over my beautiful neighborhood. By the next morning, 17.1 inches had fallen, and I was proud to be one of the few Posties who made it into the newsroom–having walked down the middle of Connecticut Avenue to get there.

The effects of the blizzard lingered for years; later in January, a torrent of snowmelt led a swollen Potomac to flood and tear up much of the C&O Canal, and the Park Service didn’t finish repairing the towpath until 1998 or maybe 1999.

Presidents’ Day, 2003: This could have been a lot more fun. We were in West Virginia to go skiing and should have stayed there. Instead, I was on the losing end of a group decision to head home early. After the long drive home in a blizzard, the first two hours involving too many tense moments on twisting mountain roads, I needed a drink. Instead, I realized there was enough snow on the ground (16.7 inches had fallen) and enough elevation changes in the adjacent blocks for me to finish my skiing without paying for a lift ticket. I enjoyed carving turns around parking meters.

December 2009: This was the first time I could make serious use of the cross-country skis I’d picked up a year or two earlier. I enjoyed “Snowpocalypse” by clocking about six miles through the streets of Arlington, finally turning around on the Fairfax Drive onramp to I-66 after I’d spent a few minutes contemplating a snow-covered highway devoid of cars. I ate well that night! The next evening, I took my downhill skis to a nearby park, where the 16.4 inches of snowfall had turned a series of steps into a miniature jump.

This was also the first snowstorm where I both had a digital camera to document the scenery and a choice of social-media sites to share those photos.

Rock Creek Park, February 2010February 2010: Washington’s most epic winter ever continued with a pair of blizzards–one depositing 17.8 inches, the second running up the score with 10.8 inches–not even half a week apart. The first day after “Snowmaggedon,” I spent almost five hours cross-countrying as far into the District as Rock Creek Park–in the process, checking “cross the Key Bridge in a car, on a bus, on a bike, on foot, and on skis” off my bucket list. A day later and considerably more sore, I ventured out again and inspected some impressive snow architecture on the Mall.

I wasn’t the only person doing a lot of urban skiing at the time. Some crazy kids in Pittsburgh put together an amazing video of them skiing and snowboarding down Mount Washington, among other unlikely spots around the city. Seriously, just watch it.

1/16/2014: Now that I finally uploaded a few dozen photos from the 2009 and 2010 snowstorms to Flickr (I’d only shared them on Facebook at the time, for reasons I don’t entirely remember), I embedded a slideshow of them after the jump.

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Things I have learned from life on the cold front

The coldest January Washington’s seen in almost 20 years is finally coming to a close, and it may even crack 50 degrees over the weekend. That makes this a good time to go over some lessons learned over the past few weeks of polar vortex-level chill.

Cold thermometer• Pipes can and do freeze in these conditions. If you’re really lucky, the burst pipe is almost directly over the sump pump, the plumber lives in your neighborhood, the repairs only run $600 and change, and your power tools still work after being rained upon indoors.

• Even after living nine and a half years in a 94-year-old house, you can still discover new leaks that let cold air seep into the basement.

• It’s easier to spy the biggest of those gaps from inside the basement when the ground is paved with snow and the sun’s shining down on it.

• Your mother was on to something when she told you to wear a hat any time you go outside in the winter.

• Thermal underwear generate a crazy amount of static electricity that, when layered under khakis, causes them to wrinkle in weird ways. Which I am okay with, given the circumstances.

• The less-than-stylish flannel or fleece-lined pants you can get from L.L. Bean and elsewhere are a good thing to have bought before this month. 

• Capital Bikeshare still works in the cold–and since biking provides more exercise than walking, you can warm up a little in the process. But fitting a helmet over a warm hat is difficult.

X-country skis• Cross-country skis work even better–and when it’s this cold, the snow makes a delightful sort of squeak. (Pity the roughly four inches we got on the 21st only allowed me to do laps in a nearby park instead of, say, skiing across the Key Bridge like I did after the “snowpocalypse” of 2010.)

• The Potomac River frozen over is a beautiful sight. Try not to miss it.

• Working from home when it’s below 15 degrees outside constitutes an excellent excuse to make a grilled-cheese sandwich for lunch (jazz it up with a little caramelized onions or sautéed apple slices) and wash that down with hot chocolate.

Between-meetings workspace options in downtown D.C.

One of the weirder aspects about freelance life, beyond being able to work without pants, is the feeling of statelessness I have when I’m between appointments in D.C. The only desk, power outlet and room that I can call mine are across the Potomac at my home; in the city, I have no one place to be.

But when I’ve got time to spare in the District, I need some place with a chair, wireless Internet, a power outlet, air conditioning and heating and, usually, access to caffeine. Here are my usual options; maybe they should be yours too?

Kogod Courtyard

Kogod CourtyardThis beautiful atrium between the National Portrait Gallery and the Museum of American Art is near perfect–it looks fantastic, it’s centrally located at Eighth and F Streets downtown, it’s got a good little cafe off to the side, the sound of children playing can keep you grounded–but for two irritating defects. One is what appears to be a complete lack of outlets. The other is the bizarre way the WiFi blocks IMAP and SMTP ports, meaning my laptop’s e-mail client can’t get or send any messages.

Coffee shops: This would be a “duh” option, but it can’t be just any coffee place. Everywhere chains like Starbucks and Cosi seem just too obvious–if I’m going to spring for a latte, I might as well get something I can’t replicate in any other city in America. I don’t have any one go-to spot in this category, but if there were a downtown D.C. equivalent of Arlington’s Northside Social or Adams Morgan’s Tryst, that might change.

Libraries: If you don’t need coffee on the spot, the District’s library system is an underrated resource. The branch locations are all in much better shape than the MLK Library (901 G St. NW): I love the Mies van der Rohe architecture there, but it’s uncomfortably overheated in the winter and, like it or not, will reacquaint you with the state of homelessness in D.C.

Dedicated coworking spaces: I don’t need a separate office often enough to pay for one, but every now and then places like Canvas (1203 19th St. NW) will have free days. And I’ve had a couple stops in the last month at the Regus business center at 1200 G St. NW (one of nine in the District), courtesy of the free membership United Airlines handed out to me and other people who spend too much time on its airplanes. This is a great place to nap–its tiny, windowless “business lounge” was empty both times–but for the same reason is also seriously deadening.

What options am I missing? Enlighten me in the comments.

Update, 3/29/2014: A couple of days ago, I finally got around to following up on a suggestion a reader left on my Facebook page after this post first went up. Hence the following addition…

Main Reading Room, Library of Congress: You can’t even get in without first obtaining a “Reader Card” at the Madison Building across the street (don’t worry, it’s only a five-minute process), and then you have to check your bag and coat before taking a roundabout route through the Jefferson Building’s basement. But then, wow: You’re typing away in one of the most beautiful spaces in Washington, a regular basilica of books. And the WiFi is fast and reliable.

So that’s what an earthquake feels like

A few minutes before 2 this afternoon, I was walking down the stairs from my office at home to make myself a late lunch when I heard this rattling noise, like that of an overloaded washing machine. For a second I wondered why the washer in the basement could have overloaded and started shaking all by itself when nobody had put any clothes in it today–then the rattling turned into rumbling, which I thought sounded more like a freight train barreling down my street–and then the thought popped into my head: “earthquake.”

I ran back up the stairs to the nearest source of noise, a bookshelf, and grabbed it with my hands to brace it in place while I hoped none of its contents would fall onto anything, least of all me.

In retrospect, that may have not been the smartest move ever. Look, they didn’t teach about this kind of contingency when I was growing up on the East Coast.

A few surreal, deeply alarming moments followed while I felt the entire house jittering and shaking around me and pondered the improbability of an earthquake stronger than a hiccup hitting the Washington area. I have spent a lifetime seeing the ground’s movement measured in geologic time, and I was not prepared for this.

Then things rumbled to a halt.

My computer’s screen took a few minutes to stop shaking afterwards. So did I, even as I typed out an update:

But after all the drama, a magnitude 5.8 quake does not seem to have broken anything at home. I’ve got a dozen or so pictures to straighten, but there are no other signs of damage–no cracked plaster, no new creaks, no doors that have to be shoved to open or close, no quirks with the water, electricity or gas. (Anything else to check for?)

Fortuitously enough, the only thing to fall off a shelf was my dad’s old hard hat.

So now we can all joke about it.

It is funny: For years, I’ve been expecting to experience an earthquake during a business trip to the Bay Area. I never thought I’d be able to cross that item off the bucket list right in my own home.