Humor me with the whole blog thing, though--this winter dumped all sorts of crazy weather on Iowa. Several times we got some kind of progression of snow/ice/slush/rainish stuff that soon froze into something between an olympic ice rink and the surface of the Jupiterian moon, Callisto. I was tempted to ask for a zamboni machine for Christmas. Anywho, each time we got a round of this crazy weather, I tried to get out and make sure our driveway and sidewalks aren't too dangerous for passersby. Since my wife and I now own [at least part of] our home, I figure it's my civil duty.
On these four previously mentioned occasions, however, I went out because the temperature has popped above freezing and the walls of snow surrounding the sidewalks start to melt-A perfect time to chip ice. Each time there was more than 3 inches of water in one section, so I'd chop through the ice in order to construct a little moat for our humble abode. More often than not during my time sludging through the moat, I found myself singing the tune of the Volga Boatman--sometimes just humming the melody, sometimes singing one of the many lyrics that have been set to that tune, but mostly just repeating, "Volga Boat-man." I can thank my wife for that one. I wasn't in a terrible mood, but the tune felt somewhat fitting as I became aware of the futility of my task. It also helped that my ice pick or my shovel looked like an oar as I was sloshing and splashing like crazy down my sidewalk moat.
Just to back up even further, I'll just remind you of how I slipped on the ice earlier this winter only to break my leg. Then we continued to get crazy ice storms (I think we may have broken winter precipitation records...) and I was laid up on the couch in a cast, my pregnant wife was forced to go try to chip ice with a dirt shovel because 1.) we got a notice from the city saying, "Please clean off the snow that's covering the ice so that people can slip on it and sue you." there were no ice picks to be found in our county (tried 6 stores in one day and went back often)
Now that I've put off the blogging so long, I can't just write about my procrastination. I've had too much time to reflect for that. While it does affect all aspects of my life, sometimes it helps me. Take my current attitude...would I have been able to be so smiley about this whole ice experience if I wasn't basking in the sun on the other side? Another thing I've been thinking is
how there's a picture of God in all of this. God will do what God wants to do. The Bible says the rain falls on the righteous and the wicked. I think the same is true of sliceshain (the precipitation we often saw). I also reflected on how we depend on God. Part of my procrastination came because I just got worn out. I could not chip some of that crazy stuff without good weather.
I don't really know if this blog has a moral, but I guess we just take each day as it comes and get to what we can. Speaking of cans, one of those last times when I was fighting the sniceshain residue, one of my neighbors across the street yelled over to me as she was rolling in her trash can, "You havin' fun?"
"Always," I replied.
"It's supposed to get up to 40 on Saturday! I'm hoping mine will just melt," she said.
I smiled. My shoulder hurt, my hands were sore--seemed like the perfect time to put it off for another time.
I don't really know if this blog has a moral, but I guess we just take each day as it comes and get to what we can. Speaking of cans, one of those last times when I was fighting the sniceshain residue, one of my neighbors across the street yelled over to me as she was rolling in her trash can, "You havin' fun?"
"Always," I replied.
"It's supposed to get up to 40 on Saturday! I'm hoping mine will just melt," she said.
I smiled. My shoulder hurt, my hands were sore--seemed like the perfect time to put it off for another time.
1 comment:
Jeepers, I almost forgot to tell you what I'm reading...Lately I've been reading a book called The Light Of Western Stars by Zane Grey. Zane Grey was one of my Grandfather's favorite writers and I'd had this book on my shelf ever since he died. I thought it was time to start reading it. It's pretty different from most of the books I've read. It's a Western and is beautifully descriptive. It was written in 1914 and you feel like you're right there in the Wild West.
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