Chaos & Clarity

In the Country Life Olympics, snow blowing is not my strongest event.  It’s on par with my leaf blowing skills.  I blame the fact that we didn’t need yard machines in the city on our postage-stamp size lot.  But give me a rake or a shovel and watch out!

A more suspicious wife might wonder if dear Husband purposely scheduled his business travel to warmer climates in response to our local forecast of ANOTHER blizzard.  (Fun fact: New England has had 78 inches of snow in one month.)

Perhaps when Husband left an extra gas tank in the garage, he was feeling remorseful that the snow blower ran out of fuel in the middle of the driveway during the previous storm, leaving his wife and daughters stranded.

It was said gas tank that brought me to tears.  Prepping for my third round of driveway-clearing in 10-degree temperatures, I found my fingers incapable of fine motor tasks.  The pain and frustration were so great that I fell to my knees and wept.  It was a messy scene of snot and swearing for a while before I pulled myself together and solved the problem by destroying the gas cap with a key.  My mother’s voice rang in my mind, “If you cry, you cry alone.”  Harsh but helpful advice that has spared me any delusion over the years that crying solves problems.

I set out with a renewed resolve to show the 300-pound snow blower who’s boss.  Several times I pinned myself against the house and car because I forgot to shift out of reverse.  But I’m happy to report that I completed the job with all body parts intact, if not sore.

I returned to the house looking like a pathetic version of Ice Man.  Frolicking daughters stopped dead in their tracks when they saw me.  Peach, bless her sweet soul, wordlessly started a cup of tea.  Teen daughter, also somewhat speechless except for a sympathetic ‘Oh!’ grabbed a  tissue to wipe the mascara running down my face.

This swell weather pattern we’re having doesn’t want to give up.  Neither do I.  Now that I’ve conquered the beast, I am determined to elevate my snow removal game.  ‘Atta girl’ Husband would say….as he drove out of the snow-cleared driveway to the airport.