Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Two-fer Tuesday ...

It is cold.

I know this because my Mac weather widget tells me that it's 9 outside.

I also know this because I just came in from shoveling show. Pushing, snow, really. It's the fluffy, Hollywood snow, but there's plenty of it, so the pushing took some time.

Planning for the cold, I put on two of everything: my stretchy leggings as well as my heavier-weight walking pants (a yoga pant/sweatpant hybrid: drawstring waist but straight, loose legs), a long-sleeve thermal T-shirt as well as a sweatshirt, my cashmere-lined leather gloves as well as my ridiculously floppy magenta fleece mittens, a scarf wound around my neck as well as one worn over my head. (I don't own a hat.)

I was outside perhaps 20 minutes. My fingertips have finally warmed enough for me to type without missing letters.


I didn't think it could snow when it was so cold. I figured the atmosphere was too dry. I was wrong. My driveway had four inches of snow on it. Maybe five. Thank God it was fluffy. I'd still be out there if it was wet, heavy snow.

No, actually, my neighbors would have fired up the snowblower and cleared my snow for me. They're great about that kind of thing.

When it's fluffy, I try to clear theirs as well as my own. Fair's fair. But William had already gotten to his (he uses his leaf blower to clear this kind of snow), and I would have frozen in place if I tried to do more than my own surfaces.

I fondly remember snow days as a kid: WGN radio the soundtrack of my mother's mornings. She'd listen to the weather and school closings and would come into my room and tell me that I could stay snuggled in, that school was canceled for the day.

Of course, nothing makes a kid get out of bed faster than the news that they don't have to get out of bed. When we got a day off for snow, we were damn well going to make the most of it. There were snowball fights to be fought, snowforts to be built, snowmen to make, snow angels, snow hills, snow, snow, snow.

In those days, we wore snowsuits or snow pants and jackets. Unlike Ralphie's little brother in "A Christmas Story," we could always put our arms down. I loved the zip-zop-zip-zop sound we'd make while walking, the nylon rubbing against itself. My mom used to put my feet in Baggies before slipping them into my boots, partly to aid in getting my feet into the boots, but also, I suspect, to keep my feet drier.

Today, I managed just fine with athletic socks and a beat-up old pair of New Balance. My pants didn't zip-zop, but the snow was squeaky.

I have earned a cup of cocoa.

And me without any marshmallows.


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home