Perhaps you’ve heard about the little snowstorm we had over the weekend. It started early Saturday afternoon, only a couple hours before I was supposed to leave to pick up my best friend from college up at the airport in Newark. I was tracking her flight online, and hopped a happy little hop when it took off, only seven minutes behind schedule (it turned out to be the last flight from Toronto to Newark that day).

The flight landed safely; I watched snowflakes hit the windshield for half an hour while she went through Customs and got her luggage. (A random sample suggests that snowflakes ARE, in fact, all different. What else can science teach us?) I also watched a few Love Actually moments at the curb, and then we had our own Love Actually moment, minus Hugh Grant, Emma Thompson & Co.

We drove home safely too, and LET THE RECORD SHOW that I drove into and out of Jersey without getting lost or turned around ONCE! I believe that is a first, or at most a third.

It continued to snow through the evening and most of the night. In the morning…

This was fun to dig out, oh yes it was. But: it was a glorious, sunny, relatively warm day; I had my big snowboots and real winter gloves; the landlord let me borrow his shovel; and a neighbor from down the block wandered over to offer advice. He saw me starting to dig out around the back wheel well, and set me straight: apparently he’s lived here for 37 years, and has a refined and sensible snow shoveling technique that he shared with me. Just clear the space diagonally in front of the car, he advised. I started doing that. Make a mountain of the snow you’re shoveling, because you can’t put it in the street or on the sidewalk. I did that too. If you are wearing a backpack because you are on your way to play frisbee, take it off and put it in the car, you idiot. (He didn’t say that last part, but it was implied.) Shovel a little at a time or you’ll hurt your back. It hurts anyway, but thanks! Turn the car on for a few minutes to melt the ice on the windshield. Hey, good idea.

I worked for the better part of an hour, and he periodically rambled over to check on my progress, giving an approving nod, or another tip, or brushing the 10 inches of snow off the roof with a broom. Then he said that alternate side parking was suspended tomorrow (today) anyway, so I should go play in the park.

So I did. Snow ultimate! And then sledding. And then I came back and saw that I had been plowed in again, and today my back hurts in ways I don’t remember it ever hurting before. HOWEVER. It seems as though my independent streak (if we’re being nice about it) or bullheaded stubbornness (hey, it’s genetic!) has its limits. I can appreciate help when it’s offered, and be grateful for it.

As Mr. Rogers said…it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

What I’m reading: It’s Beginning to Hurt, James Lasdun

What I’m listening to: Sleater-Kinney, Dig Me Out; Dispatch, Bang Bang; Chopin and Rachmaninoff


1 Comment

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One response to “Gratitude

  1. Pingback: How the World Works « IcyDaylight

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