Thursday, January 13, 2011
You Go to Hell Winter, You Go to Hell and You Die
I hate snow.
I know I know, I live in Massachusetts, nestled in the heart of New England and in my 31 years in the state (with my 1 year college stint in Vermont...even MORE) I should be used to this white nastiness.
There are people that actually LIKE this stuff. Yeah I get it, you can ski and look at all the white pretty powder adorning the trees and the landscapes around you. I admit it, it's pretty at times.
I confess this past weekend we went to New York City. Myself, the Boy and all 3 kids. It was nothing short of amazing. Sure a part of that magic was a light snowfall, straight out of Serendipity as we skated around Rockefeller Center, but had I not been caught up in the moment, I would have likely been cursing the snow.
It was kind of like a movie really, gliding around on the ice, that famous statue illuminated behind the rink casting a pinkish glow from the red lights. Tiny flakes falling and settling on the black wool jackets we both wore. At times the entire rest of the people who were swirling around us seemed to disappear and we were able to share a couple moments of romance. A little hand holding, a quick kiss.
But back in reality this shit is for the birds. Well not really, since they appear to be smarter and migrate south into the warmer climes for the winter.
Massachusetts got pummeled by a blizzard the day after Christmas. We got slammed again with over a foot of snow on Wednesday. People all over are without power still, it's freezing cold so nothing is melting.
The sides of roads are hidden by mountainous mounds of plowed snow. Not pristine and post-card like, but dingy from road salt and sand. Filthy and brown, like a coffee stain on a crisp white shirt.
Tomorrow's forecast calls for possibly 2 more inches. Another storm set to hit sometime next week.
I know I know, I hear what you're saying. I've lived here my entire life, I should be used to this blah blah blah.
When I was a kid, I loved the snow. Out sledding and building snowmen. Snow ball fights with the other kids in my neighborhood. Waiting in angst to see if in fact school was cancelled (which back then it hardly ever was) to allow for more time to play. I get to witness that with my son.
I get to watch his cheeks take on the ruddy color from the freezing cold. Watch his hat and mittens caked in frozen snow. His nose perpetually running. And him enjoying every freaking minute of it. Not caring if he can't feel his face, impervious to the possible hypothermia he's likely getting from wanting to stay out as long as possible. Forced inside by adults or tempted with the promise of hot cocoa with marshmallows.
Ah to have the child's point of view on it now.
Instead I worry about slipping on ice and hurting myself somehow. Cars sliding off the road or seasoned New Englanders forgetting how to drive in the conditions they have known their entire lives. I dread shoveling and plows blocking in my driveway. Scraping ice off of windshields and high heating bills.
Not to mention, the day I took my pretty new car home, it snowed. That's right as soon as I left the lot, I was driving in snow. My perfect and pretty shiny new car was covered in salt and ick from day one.
The only blizzard I wish to contend with as an adult is the kind I can get from DQ.
You go to hell Winter, you go to hell and you die. (Which you obviously would, since I hear it's hot there...)