Snow Tired

In our Christmas newsletter, I lamented the fact that a lack of snow last year had left me with Nicole Richie-esque arms.  A few posts back, I sang the praises of snow shoveling as a de-stressing activity.   This week has caused the mood to change.  With apologies to Frosty the Poem Man.

Dump of Snow

The way the storm shook down today

A foot of snow on my long driveway

Has given my heart a change of mood

And made me mutter some words rather rude

Now that I’ve ripped off Robert Frost, I’ll rip off Sports Illustrated by posting a By the Numbers section based on this week.

1 the number of icicles hanging over our door like the Sword of Damocles

2 the number of school days cancelled this week due to snow(Wednesday and Thursday)

5 the number of school days cancelled this year due to snow

420 the approximate volume(in cubic feet) of snow that I shoveled on Wednesday

725,760 the approximate volume (in cubic inches…because it’s a more impressive sounding number) of snow that I shoveled on Wednesday

2 the number of hours spent shoveling on Wednesday and Thursday

6 the number of Aleve pills that I popped to prevent old man pains from setting in

175 the approximate amount of tissues I went through over the past week, proving that the saying “feed a fever, snow shovel your cold to death” is a bunch of a bunk

Lost Boy

Tomorrow night Lost returns.  I’m steeling myself for disappointment so I can be pleasantly surprised.

On a side note, Lost has apparently found the method for making a show work in Hawaii:  Don’t set the show in Hawaii

Short-lived series liked the Birds of Paradise,  Baywatch: Hawaii, and Hawaii said aloha very quickly.  Apparently, Hawaii 5-o and Magnum P.I. are tough acts to follow.

Live from NY it‘s Saturday night

I do not recommend blizzards on a Saturday night. Blizzards from Dairy Queen maybe, especially the cheesecake variety if they still make those, but definitely not blizzards of the freak snowstorm variety.

Yet the latter is just what Sara and I got to experience last night. We left our friends’ house at 6 pm. Our drive started out innocently enough for the first 10 minutes or so, but then it began to dump in bunches and gust with a vengeance.

This was the first mensch of a snowstorm I had driven in. I’ve driven in some bad weather before, or had short stretches of white out, but this lasted for about 40 miles without much relief. If you’ve ever driven in one of these buggers before, I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about. The windshield slowly becoming covered with ice, moments of zero visibility when the wind gusts and all you can see is the ethereal reflection of your headlights, and following the red of a tail-light like it is the nose of Rudolph himself.

We actually nearly drove off the the left side of the road once, when we were trying to get around a vehicle that had stopped. Fortunately (for us), the vehicle in front of us demonstrated that this was a bad idea by sliding around and getting stuck itself. We stopped and were getting ready to back up, when we noticed there was a vehicle right next to us that was stuck. They were trying to back out, so we helped them push. We were able to get them backed up a few feet, but couldn’t push them out. Fortunately, a couple guys came by who had a strap to tow them out. For our unheroic effort, we did get our clothes, hair and mouths full of dirt.

Left: Did somebody say dry-cleaning?

Right: The toll booth operator seemed a little puzzled by my look.

After the invigorating cool of that adventure, we got back in the car, backed up on our major highway and headed on our merry way. It was all very scary, especially when there were other cars behind and I had no idea where I was on the road. However, I think I handled it a little better than Sara, occasionally able to burst out with a random song such as “Winter Wonderland” and “Down in the River to Pray” At one point, I even privately mused that this was a pretty cool experience. I didn’t say this out loud however, for fear that this comment might come back to haunt me. Silent prayers were also said.

On the remainder of our drive, we unintentionally exited after following a car, nearly made the same mistake again, drove on rumble strips for several hundred feet, and actually drove past our exit. Fortunately, Sara noted this, so we reversed on the interstate and got back on track. When it was all said and done, a drive that usually takes about 50 minutes, took 2 hours and 30 minutes. But better slow than stuck in a ditch somewhere waiting in the tow truck queue with the other 50 cars. In the end we were very thankful.