By 4:00 p.m. Thursday, there is a foot of light, fluffy, extremely moveable snow on the ground, but the streets have yet to be plowed. We actually shovel our street, as far as we can to make sure my middle child can swing into the driveway. This we decide just after watching a guy in a mini-van, brakes completely locked solid, slide fifty yards down our street, straight into a five way intersection, entering said intersection from the blind end, and nearly miss getting smooshed by a transit authority bus. (I'm sure there's a Chicago musical group joke in there somewhere.)
By 6:00 p.m., it looks as if we never shoveled nor cleaned off vehicles. At 10:30 p.m. it is still snowing like crazy, but the temperature has leveled off at about 5 degrees, which is where it has been most of the day. Middle child has to walk a mile to work Friday, very early in the morning. I will get up with great plans to clean off her car and possibly get her there via motor vehicle, but it doesn't look good.
This is not the first time she has walked to work uptown from our house in a blizzard. Usually I walk with her or go to meet her. Occasionally we have had to walk backward against the wind and driving snow. We usually have to walk in the street and risk getting hit by someone just like the goober in the lock-wheeled mini-van. But she doesn't work at the same place she used to. She has to walk an additional half-mile beyond her old place of employment. And now that she's a nurse, people count on her to be where she needs to be when she needs to be there.
I have Raynaud's, which means my circulation, especially in this cold weather, leaves a lot to be desired. My feet are still in pain from the cold air and the earlier shoveling, and that was with heavy boots and two pairs of thick socks on each foot. Still, I want to cry as my toes continue to thaw.
I will admit, I cannot tell you whether or not I will be able to get my daughter to work this frigid, snowy, brutal morning. By the time this blog posts, I will just be getting up with her to make sure she's ready to go. I'll offer her heavy gloves, scarves, hats, socks. I'll hope the snow has abated and the street is plowed so maybe she can drive herself rather than risk the walk. By the time you read this, the entire conundrum will probably be resolved already.
This is New England. To rail at and/or about the snow is not only useless, it's counterproductive. This is life; this is the way things are. To devote entire mornings full of news stories about the snow and cold implies that we are such stupid people that we never suspect it might actually be winter. Nothing could be further from the truth. We know it, we own it, we accept it, and we revel in it.
However, getting up at 5:00 a.m. in the middle of a sub-zero nor'easter to trek through it a mile to work is still a goddamn mother-f***ing pain in the big fat ass. That's not whining; that's just common sense, folks.
[P.S. We both survive the walk, and the winds don't kick in until the last half mile. It is stunning outside, absolutely beautiful. By the time I get home at 6:30 a.m., I am sweating. I have my cell phone out (though I am not sure yet if pictures will come out clearly), and I sit outside on the step for a few extra minutes and enjoy the falling snow. Other than the two idiots out running in dark clothing this morning and the few workers hitting Dunkins for some caffeine, the roads were relatively clear but ridiculously slippery. It may be 2 degrees out with a wind chill of -20, but it feels wonderful. It's so quiet and so magical. Sure, I have to shovel it all ... later ... but for now, this is why I live in New England. Happy snowy Friday, folks.]
