Shoveling Out My Inner Snow Angel

6", 9", 12", 14", 27". 
No, this is not a story about awesome penises. 

It's about snow. 
Lots of it.
All month. 
All week. 
All night long. 
Inches and feet and yards of it.
This has been the Northeast. 
More frigid than your ex, feeding a snowcone to a polar bear.

In one week alone, we've all seen the hundreds of pictures of buried walkways, snow entombed barbecue grills, frozen faces, and mammoth white humps enveloping everything from pets to what was once your only means of transportation.

I don't know about you, but I'm happy when there's just enough snow to make a cute little snowball to stuff down someone's pants. Perfectly content. I don't really need to be able to recreate the entire city of Moscow with just the snow surrounding my mailbox, to be happy with winter's offerings. 


But then of course, we have 'those other people'. 
You know, the one's who just can't seem to get enough of it.

We all know at least a few of them. Ever notice when there's a major Nor'easter looming, ready to dump 3 feet plus of paralyzing snow, close schools and bring businesses to a standstill, there's always those giddy-ass snow people who change their Facebook statuses to :

" Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow!!!!" ?

Fair to say the 'psyched it's snowing' faction of people, aren't single moms with high Italian emotions, 200 foot long driveways and a bulging set of spine discs. Nor are they in any capacity, the actual people doing the shoveling of said snow. That's pretty obvious because singing any type of happy song doesn't go together with rearing up, and tossing 46 pound loads of frozen ice over your broken back in 12º weather, 4 hours straight, 5 weeks in a row while snot is secretly running down your socks. 
Hating, and wishing the Northeast dead, to the violent sounds of death metal, is probably more accurate. 

But the reality is, the jolly, chorusing snow people have taught me something very, very valuable; 

'Learn to see the positives'.

That's a great idea.

Hundreds of cars stuck in icy sink holes, fun plans cancelled, backs severed, ankles snapped, cars sliding off the highways and careening into telephone poles, sinking into ditches, on the surface just seem so burdensome. But what they really are are simply unconventional opportunities for joyful expansion. 

Snow storm, after snow storm, after snow storm, are really just enchanting winter experiences. 
It's just a matter of shifting your perspective.
So from here on, I'd like to stay positive and share my focus on the more uplifting particulars of being inconvenienced by snowstorms, and try and bring my complaining about it to a complete halt.

Positive, okay. I know I can do this. 

Well first off, on a superficial note, compared to the snow, I now look much tanner than I had before. So that's a positive. Someone actually asked me today if I was half black. 
But now compared to the snow, my teeth that I used to think were pretty white, look like I spent the week sucking on charcoal briquettes. 
But since I'm on a quest to stay positive, I'll still celebrate the fact that I'm seemingly bronzy, when in reality, in department store lighting in early February, I'm more like the color of jarred mayonnaise.

I've also been blessed with the opportunity to manually dig 6 foot deep, 200 foot long, war trenches and erect snow forts without the threat of an actual war or having to see my friends get blown to pieces. So this is a really positive experience! The only minor inconvenience is just a few useless discs being thrown into permanent misalignment. Nothing that being hunched over for a week without a paycheck or two won't resolve. 

And considering I live in an antisocial town where shooting people and hiding has become rather high on my bucket list, I know this trench building skill will one day become an exceptionally useful skill.

Also, as a result of trying to claw my way out of the house from restlessness, I've stumbled upon a new beautiful shade of crimson. It's called dried blood. Quite lovely, and very much the same color as a ripe pomegranate, so I might end up doing the whole living room in it.

Oh and did I neglect to mention that I feel sexy and alive now that my body is permanently suited up in clothes that look like I'm going on a whale harpooning expedition? 
Well, I do.

And in spite of the fact that I've been suffering from dreaded Cabin Fever, or House Hepatitis (I don't own a cabin), and have periodic bouts of Cardiac Shovelitis, I still always make sure I have time for romance. Being incapacitated by all this snow is no excuse for not seeking out, positive, romantic experiences. Sure, no one can drive here to come see me. But you just need to be willing to make a couple of concessions. Mine have been to date fat, round, white men that have carrots for noses and random decomposing fruit for eyes. Not much better than my usual dates, fyi on that one. So I've even made room in my upright freezer for us to cuddle. 

Further proof that snow immobility and isolation has catapulted my social life in an ascending direction. 

And who would be so foolish as to not appreciate and see the positives of owning a multitude of domesticated, 'grass only', fragile dogs during an Ice Age revisit. 

Currently sequestered to living on a terrain where nothing shy of a herd of Musk Ox could survive, I now see this as a wonderful, serendipitous opportunity for my 3 dogs and I, to truly bond and get to know each other. Maybe curl up on my cozy, wool rugs, that for the past four weeks of this beautiful, magical snowfall, they've consistently relieved themselves on.

See if it weren't for the picturesque, 3 acre wonderland of white snow, caked up to my door handles, I'd never really have the opportunity to know my dogs on the clinical level that I do now, watching them pee on my slipcovers. Or know how much actual shit, a cup and a half of Chicken and Rice kibble actually yields. 
In good weather, I have no way of knowing this. Because normally, those answers are sadly lost outside in the green, sweet smelling grass. But thanks to the giddy snow Gods, I thankfully now do. Once more, the angelic heaping piles of snow have provided me this wonderful rare opportunity to seek out the positives and see nature up close and personal. 

So as well as my cleaning and screaming skills graduating to the next level, I'm also blessed to get a low cost education in Veterinary Gastroenterology. To elaborate on the aforementioned example, I now know that before you pick up dog poop from the rugs, it needs to sit, and air dry say, for approximately 4-6 hours, so that picking it up off the rugs, doesn't mean, smearing it up, off the rugs. Just passing along the many positive data of my Snowed-In-For-A-Month research, people. Wouldn't want to be the only one hoarding all the happiness. 

Meanwhile, back at the carpet lab, after the 4-6 hours, miraculously, the dog poop has aggressively evaporated to nearly half its size, and is now happily bone dry and much akin to a Pompeiinian artifact. And voila. Smear free removal at your disposal. See, unlike Bill Nye The Science Guy, who threw away all his precious years in prestigious colleges around the world, in merely 4-6 hours in my living room, I was able to garner information regarding the oxidation and natural dehydration process of fecal matter, and in succession, simultaneously discovered the fine art of subduing the gag reflex. Thank you oh glorious, low pressure front, winter wonderland, arctic tundra of a fucking backyard. 

Looking forward to 6" more of positivity tomorrow.

So, "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow".

;)

~dawn