12.18.00
My mother invited me to go shopping with her in Cedar Rapids for a last minute holiday shopping bonanza. I was to be at my parent's house sometime between noon and 1pm.
At noon I went outside to remove the hideous build-up of ice from my car's windows from the sleet storm we had the other day. While I was scraping, cursing a blue streak, and periodically screaming in frustration, I took note of the foot to foot-and-a-half of snow piled up behind my car on the street, but figured that my mighty 4-cylinder, two-door hatchback steed of a front-wheel-driving Japanese shoebox on a rollerskate could more than handle the pile-up*.
30 or so minutes later, and a miniscule yet critical amount of window space revealed, I went back into the house to put on a lighter weight jacket** and depart for the northern shopping climes.
Upon backing out of my space, I gunned my engine to plow through the pile of snow behind my car and suddenly found myself with my back tires spinning in mid-air, as the undercarriage of my car suddenly found itself perched firmly atop a foot to foot-and-a-half block of hard-packed, sleet-soaked glacier.
More cursing ensued, as did a call to my father asking him to come down and liberate my car from the iceberg upon which it tottered precariously, with his mighty steed of a truck and assorted towing devices.
While I waited, I decided to try and shovel out as much snow as possible from the car's back end, and discovered that my shovel wasn't cut out for that sort of thing, now strangely bent into the twisted shadow of a formerly dependable snow shovel.
Fortunately, some sweetheart named Mark came over with a pointy spade-like shovel and got the greater portion of the snow removed from my car, all with grace, wit and charm, and then a lovely gentleman whose name I never caught came by with a big-ass truck and chains and pulled me out. I parked down the hill and thanked them both kindly. (I've always relied upon the kindness of strangers.)
I ran back into the house to call and see if I could catch Dad before he left, as well as to see if I could restore the feeling back into my toes. I got ahold of him, and was informed that my mother and sister were en route to free my vehicle, and to spirit me away to the shopping motherland.
About that time, my toes started to throb with such ferociousness that I actually cried, all the way into the bathroom to soak my feet in a lukewarm tub of water, all the while snuffling in pain and frustration.
The feeling eventually returned, the pain receded, my family and I went shopping, and I now have not only a kick-ass new pointy, spade-like shovel, but a nice new snow shovel and a fat-ass pair of moon boot-looking snow boots to wear in the coming months, with a special cache of self-heating gel pack toe warmers should I need to be outside for an hour in sub-freezing temperatures again.
I also made my dad drive me home from the shopping extravaganza, and he helped clear out the street entrance to my parking space. My shovels totally kick-ass, and have achieved the Dad stamp of approval.
Mark was right, too. This would make a good story to tell my grandchildren someday. Too bad I'm wasting it on you all.
*My parking lot is perpendicular to the street on which I live. Immediately after my space ends, people begin parking along the side of the street. When the snowplows come through, they feel strangely compelled to pile up a huge mound of snow directly behind my car, which generally elicits shoveling, cursing a blue streak, and periodic screams of frustration.
**There's almost nothing worse than being in a super-heated store with a huge winter parka to either wear or drag around. Having a lighter weight jacket, while icky when outside the store, makes the whole shopping experience that much less tedious and horrific, not to mention less sweat-inducing.
COMMENTS:
From:
"Suzanna Lxxxx" <sloper@XXXXX.berkeley.edu>
To: <pixiemartin@home.com>
Subject: hey coolest cuz
Date: Saturday, November 18, 2000 1:11 AM
Hi Kristen!
Just wanted you to know that I enjoyed spending some voyeuristic
time surfing your last few days of 'in my head'. I am so
impressed that you can keep this up ... I can't even write in a
damn journal for 3 days in a row ...
(...snip a bunch of family gossip...)
Love,
Suzy
