An ode to snow, a 9 year old, and the crap I, annually, cannot remember.

Our first significant snowfall of the winter has come and gone but with it came the first reminder of winters past and the first reminder of exactly what it is that I fail to (again) remember every year.

-To not just report, on-air, the current weather but the expected weather and then remember that I don’t just do that for the listeners. I live in the same world.
-To keep the ice scraper somewhere in the car or, at least, near enough.
-To keep the snowshovel (in a place I can’t remember) away from the 9 year old when the first minor snowfall happens on a Sunday but attendance at work is still expected on the following Wednesday after the first significant snowfall happens on Tuesday.
-To buy winter boots (haven’t remembered in 9 years).
-To put away my winter gloves and comfy wool headdress’s in a place I can recall.
-To keep the backup snowshovel (in a place I can’t remember) for myself for just the moments when I forget one of the notes above.

Redux:

Our first significant snowfall of the winter has come and gone but with it came the first reminder of winters past and the first reminder of exactly what it is that I fail to (again) remember every year.

After waking at my normal time on a Wednesday morning I realized it had started to snow while I was sleeping. Did I take into account the fact that, before I got off the air the day before, I had warned of just such an occurrence in my final weather report? No. I set my alarm for the usual time.

I didn’t have the ice scraper in my car, or anywhere near it. I was late for work.

After making my way home later, slowly, during the days’ continued snow I arrived home knowing that shoveling the driveway was going to be necessary the minute I got there before the wet snow froze up and would require dynamite or spring to clear.

A half hour later I located the snowshovel…buried in snow in the backyard after being used on Sunday by the 9 year old to make some really nifty snowless paths. With this grand discovery in hand I then put on an extra pair of socks to wear inside an old pair of sneakers and donned a double pair of thin convenience store work gloves and token Pittsburgh Steeler gift mittens.

Finally I was ready for the shoveling and the 9 year old was eager to help.

Another half hour later I found the backup shovel behind a pile of stuff intended for a summer yardsale.

An argument over who would use the cooler shovel lasted a few moments and then came the actual shoveling and the help. Notions of the help shoveling the back steps quickly turned into shoveling the front lawn while I finished the driveway and made my way inside with numb toes, fingers and a distinct sense of impending hypothermia.

Now back to this entry’s headline: An ode to the first snow, a 9 year old, and the crap I, annually, cannot remember.

For snowfall # 2 though, bring it on! I’m absolutely prepared!

Scene: Snowfall # 2.

Snow falls in the quiet night of a northern New York town called Newburgh.

Man 1 (me): “Hey honey, have you seen the snowshovels?”

Woman 1 (my Maria): “No.”

Man 1 (still me): “Dammit!”

Sigh.

-fb

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