The Snowstorm, Part II (and like most sequels, this was worst than the first)

There's probably nothing worse than your alarm buzzing you awake, early in the morning, when you know you've got some hard work ahead of you.
I put out my sweats and a few warm layers out last night, so I wouldn't crap out.
And I knew exactly where the snow shovel was.
I hit the driveway at 7:30 a.m. and started shoveling, telling myself to lift with the legs. First, though, we let Jayden out for a few minutes for his first major snowstorm.

Yeah, it's cold:



He actually loved it, however, and threw a fit when we brought him in, despite his cherry cheeks. That left me with three feet of snow to clear off the driveway and well out into the street. When the snowplows cleared our street, they left a Berlin Wall of snow blocking our driveway.
Greeley got two feet of snow during the storm, and the strong winds shaped it into hard, crusty blocks of crystal, some of which towered eight feet or more:




It was a discouraging job. Shovel, huff, shovel, huff, shovel, huff, shovel, huff, three deep breaths....and I would look down to see a tiny patch of concrete as the reward for my hard work. Thank God for my mountaineering gear, which left me fairly toasty until the last half-hour, when the wind picked up again and it almost started to snow. It stopped, I think, because of my severe threats when I saw the first few flakes drifting down to the ground.

Most of the roads were choked with snow, making it almost impossible to get out. The city was shut down; my newspaper was closed, though we were going to put out a paper for tommorow. All the fast food joints, save for a McDonalds, were closed.

I watched as one city PLOW got stuck on a side street near my house. It took him 15 minutes to dig his way out.

Parting the white sea on our neighborhood streets:




The drift in our driveway was twice as big as the J-man:





Two hours into the shoveling, my arms screamed at me, my butt ached (I was determined to lift with the legs, not my back, and compromised with my trunk) and I was cold and cranky.
My neighbor walked outside with a snow blower. I gazed at it with the lust I used to share for my Heather Thomas poster when I was 15.

When I finally, finally finished, three hours later, I gave a Braveheart yell and called my editor, who said she'd like a couple stories, if I could get them. I told her I'd talk to some folks on my way into work.


I was frosty, and the tips of my fingers felt as if I had just finished with Everest, when I walked in the door.
Jayden was on the stairs.

"Da da," he said, for the first time in his life.

I was warm again.

P.S.


The best thing to do when it's cold? Enjoy a hot meal!