If you are here for “Succinctly
Yours,” please skip to below the quote, and thank you for visiting!
So far we’ve weathered (get it?) stuck cars, frozen locks
and lots of shoveling. Still, that sci-fi-sounding polar vortex aside, I don’t
really despise winter. I’m just superstitious enough that I feel like I must
whisper this, however, lest some wicked winter warlock decides to make me
regret admitting it.
Today was the day we were supposed to head back to school,
but I do usually wish I had just one more day off. And in many ways, the
experience brought back my youth in Nebraska.
The difference is that now I have no problem dressing for
the cold, whereas when I was young, I was more concerned with unflatteringly
puffy coats and ugly hats. Today when I emerged from the bathroom in my snow
shoveling gear, the cat ran for his life, clearly fearing I’d morphed into the
Abominable Snowmom. Even after treats and reassurances, he hugged the walls and
cast wide, wary eyes at me. It was funny until I caught a glimpse of myself in
the mirror and realized I looked like a Monsters,
Inc. creature. I swished when I walked and had hair that sprouted out of
the top of my ear warmers like a freakishly huge pea hen.
Shoveling didn’t improve the hairdo any—and this from
someone who regularly plays the “Which Male Lord of the Rings Character Does My
Hair Now Resemble” game (hint: it’s never Legolas, and when it’s Aragorn, it’s
always that end-of-war do when it’s clear he hasn’t washed it in at least six
Orc battles…only way, WAY less sexy on me).
Now that the shoveling is accomplished, snow (and my hair) aren’t
so bad again. This storm produced a sparkling white magic that so silently whipped
up a new landscape, submerging scenery so that benches were buried and swing set
seats were erased, whited out, their chains seemingly anchored to nothing.
For some of us, living in the tropics would be like eating
nothing but chocolate all the time. Sounds heavenly until you get a hankering for
chicken or even Aunt Roberta’s string beans.
So for now, anyway, at least while I sit here with leftover
Christmas treats and the premiere of Downton Abbey on DVR, I’m okay being
snowed in. Happy 2014.
In the long run the pessimist may be proved right, but the
optimist has a better time on the trip. ~Daniel L. Reardon
Thanks to the extra time our snowstorm has given me, this
week I’ve decided to try participating in “Succinctly Yours” over at Grandma’sGoulash. The idea of this meme is to use the photo as inspiration for a story
of 140 characters or 140 words (or fewer). Mine is 133 characters, not counting
spaces, and the bonus word was "theory."
Gary, ever the perfectionist, had a theory about how Elvis
impersonation should be done. When he played “You Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hound dog,”
he got a bit literal.
