Looking on the White Side

I really do love my little corner of the universe.  My lovely house, Franklin Park, the North Hills, Pittsburgh, Allegheny County.  I have landed in a pot of jam. I honestly would not want to live anywhere else.

I even enjoy the change of seasons, within reason. In the past few years, I have become more adept at tolerating temperature changes, since they now take place within my very own body several times daily.  The key to dealing with this is dressing in layers.  It works for soldiers in battle, and it works for women in menopause (which is its own kind of battle).

Therefore, you will rarely hear me complain about the weather, including rain, wind or intense heat.  My long-time weather philosophy is "At least it isn't snowing." Unless, of course, it is snowing.  Then I complain.  In fact, I take complaining to a new level when it comes to snow.  I am a world-class champion snow complainer.  It is almost a new art form in my hands.  In my defense, I have suffered more than my share of snow-related misadventures and enjoy nothing less than driving in the stuff.

So it was with a heavy heart that I realized that there was a massive snowstorm forecast for the day after Christmas.  My only obligation outside the house that day was a chiropractor appointment which I promptly cancelled (along with 32 other people, my chiropractor told me the next day). 

It came down hard and fast and by the afternoon there was about a half a foot of snow outside.  I wanted to check for the mail which meant making my way down the driveway to the street.  I realized that that would be a lot easier to do if I at least shoveled a pathway to get there.  Then once I started I figured I might as well finish the job since my husband and I both had to leave the house in the morning.  When my husband looked out to see why it was taking me so long to get the mail, he joined me, and together we finished shoveling the driveway.

Now I was none too happy about any of this, because I like shoveling snow only slightly more than I like driving in it.  When I came back the next day from the chiropractor and a wildly successful après-Christmas shopping trip there was another inch on the driveway and so I shoveled it again.

Afterward, as I was warming up with some Zen tea, I got to thinking.  I'm generally a pretty optimistic person, and have even been accused of being too optimistic by some, who also seem pretty annoyed by my natural tendency to "look on the bright side."

Shoveling the driveway was probably the equivalent of 30 minutes of cardio on the elliptical machine at the Y in terms of a workout.  Working together on the task equipped with tools especially designed for the Arthritic Shoveler (e.g. our glorified electric shovel "snow blower") my husband and I can get the job done with minimal damage to limbs and joints.

So I set forth with new resolve to be positive about snow and all that comes with it.  Of course, I have had to shovel the driveway again since then, a total of three times in four days and it's still December.

But I'm not complaining - yet.