How do you feel? We've been digging ourselves out of snowbanks for 3 days (see how hard he's pushing? That, children, is called leverage). The post I wrote on Saturday? Yeah, at 7am, at the START of the great Blizzard of 2010. The roof of the Metrodome collapsed, the cities pulled all the plows off the road because it was too dangerous, and Tim drove a sweet lady to work at the hospital. When he came home, he said it was like Armageddon; trucks and cars sideways in the exit ramps, countless cars in the ditches, insanity. She took an overnight bag. People on Facebook and blogs had all sorts of names for the blizzard: SnOMG and Snomageddon were my favorites. At the end we ended up with 22 inches or so, and then it blew all around in little snow tornadoes all over the place. You could hear it from inside the house (the call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE!!!) Incidentally, C. Awesome went through 3 snowblowers. Big ones.
So there you are. Now pictures. :)
Looks harmless, pretty even. But you can't even see where C. Awesome snowblowed...
Where are all the cars, Santa?
Our neighbors. I believe this is their first winter outside of Mexico. They shared their shovels with the Nigerians...Minnesota nice went international on my street.
I decided to walk the dog this morning. It was against my better judgement and my principles of weekend blizzard activities. Today is a day to sit inside and bake gingerbread cookies, and at some point today, I will. You’ll see.
The news has been blaring warnings of 13 inch snowfall for the last 3 days. This excites me, as I have the weekend off (not like 2 weekends ago where the whole world was an ice rink and I slid through an intersection whilst a cop waved at me helpless…true story). I decided whether the snow falls or not, I’m locking myself indoors and baking my amazing soft and chewy gingerbread cookies. If the snow falls, I won’t have TV anyway, because I have satellite, and we all know what happens when a cloud passes over the orbiting metal box. Minnesotans never quite believe the weatherman anyway, and seemed pretty glib about it, only making a run to the liquor store before going home. This is another side of Minnesota I don’t get; quiet, Lutheran Midwesterners who swear in everyday conversations and think, “if it snows, I better go get some booze, cause I’ll just be home shoveling.” Incidentally, it snowed 8 inches overnight, and we’re supposed to see snow until 10:00 tonight. I only know this because of the weather texts sent to my phone, as my TV is…you guessed it; out.
After work yesterday I went and bought everything for gingerbread cookies (I hope), and a friend gave me 6 of her own chickens’ monster sized, fresh and fluffy eggs. I’m excited. But this has nothing to do with walking the dog. Captain Awesome had gotten up at 5 and gone out to snowblow; a tragic endeavor, as it all blew back as soon as he went past. I decided, since he’d been out working since 5 and I was inside drinking tea, I could be nice and take the dog out, a sheltie who LOVES losing himself in snow. I don’t get it; that low to the ground and having to leap everywhere. Maybe he hates it and is forced to leap, giving the impression of winter jollity. I don’t know. Are any of you a dog whisperer?
I got up, pulled my hair into a side braid, thinking about my lovely friend in Norway and a stupid picture we took together once, to show ourselves at our most Scandanavian. I pulled my hat down over my eyes and tied a scarf up to meet my hat. The dog was all excited, running in circles around me, looking for treats, and whining at the snow. This was the moment I realized that I had left my winter boots in my car for the last big snow, about a week and a half ago. Moral dilemma; do I call Captain Awesome and ask him to go get my boots so I can walk the dog? Do I tell him I simply can’t walk the dog and go back to my tea? Do I go get them myself and walk the dog with wet socks (I HATE wet socks)? I tried to wimp out, I texted him, but he couldn’t hear it over the snowblower. I went out the front door (a rarity, I don’t even have a key), walked along the once snowblowed sidewalk, trudged out to my garage (I am so thankful for my garage) and got my boots out of the car. I put them on in the garage and went on my way. It wasn’t so bad. Wind at my back, coat covered in white, dog leaping and bouncing through mountains of fluff. It was actually pretty cute. I started to walk down towards the pond, and the snow quickly climbed to my thighs. I gave in and fell. I really should have made a snow angel…I wonder why I didn’t think of that. Anyway, dog that he is, wouldn’t leave my side to go to the bathroom, so I got back up and we started back.
Ouch. The wind was no longer at my back, and I couldn’t see or hear. My mind immediately went elsewhere so I wouldn’t have to pay attention to the elements. I thought about how my Scandanavian ancestors would be so proud of me (not very likely…”oooooh, you went out in the snow….did you also eat rotten, 8 month old fish you buried?”), and how my Irish ones would think I’m nuts. The German ones would think it’s romantic, and the French ones…I really don’t think they’d care. No clue how my Cherokee ancestors would feel about me trudging out in the snow to walk a dog. Seems kind of small compared to hunting and surviving and the like. To my right, a noise pulled me out of my ponderings. Then I realized it was the sound of my snowpants, I just hadn’t been able to hear until I got to a wind-less place.
Poor Captain Awesome, still out there at almost 9, snowblowing into futility. Maybe I’ll make those peanut butter cookies with the Reese’s in them….I need Reese’s. So I made it back home, came in the back door (because I had my boots!) and noticed that I had left the front door wide open in my snow-shock. Nothing like going for a 15 minute walk and letting all the heat out on a snowy Saturday morning. You know you’ve been there.
Today’s song of the day should be no surprise. I'm sorry about the way it looks. Grooveshark and I have had a serious falling out, and they now offer a lot less for a lot more work. And they don't save anything for you anymore. Boo.
Where are all the cars, Santa?
