Around noon of day two of Snowmageddon 2011, Susan, both kids, and myself were all completely stir crazy. Perhaps it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but I seem to recall playing outside for hours and hours in the snow. We had snowball fights, went sledding in the snow, built snow forts, threw ice balls at cars, and walked through the creek on ice until someone (usually me) cracked through the ice and had to walk home with numb, wet feet. Not my kids. With them it’s five minutes out in the snow, followed by at least 30 minutes of warming up next to the fireplace, in their underwear, drinking hot chocolate from a mug. As the day goes on, their snow excursions get shorter and their breaks get longer. The closest my kids got to any real snow excitement was from playing Shaun White Snowboarding on the Wii.
At approximately 12:17 and 42 seconds, I cracked and yelled, “Get dressed — we’re going out!” Dressed in their third outfit of the day (what — you think my kids put wet clothes back on? My kids have gone through seventeen outfits in two days.), we piled into the truck and decided to see just how bad the roads were.
(Mason and I had already been out once, yesterday. We made it to 7-11 (less than a mile from our house) when I decided to turn back. I had to muscle my way through snow drifts as tall as my bumper, and my wheels spun the entire time. Deciding that a hot Cappuccino and a Cadbury Egg probably wasn’t worth digging my way out of a snow drift, we quickly high-tailed it back home.)
On day two of Snowmaggedon, things looked better. The neighborhoods were/are still terrible and I almost got stuck leaving the neighborhood, but once we made it to the main road we could actually see pavement. As we drove through town we could see that most of the main roads had been plowed.
After eating lunch we decided to swing by Dad’s house. Dad mentioned that the snow drifts behind his truck were so deep that he couldn’t get out, and that he didn’t have a snow shovel. I, on the other hand, have both a snow shovel, and a 9-year-old son that likes shoveling snow.
We quickly found that NW 10th street is not an official snow route, and before long, we ran into these two jokers.
A low-riding Honda with big wheels, a loud muffler, and two dudes in it, about two feet away from going over the edge into the ditch. We pulled up next to them and asked if someone was coming for them. Nope. Knowing that 20 years ago it could have been me in that car, Susan and I hopped out and dug them out with our shovels. After a bit of pushing, rocking and shoving, the Honda made it back on the road, and we went on our way, patting ourselves on the back the entire time.
And then, we got stuck.
Not a minute later, we turned into my dad’s neighborhood and hit a snowdrift that buried my truck. Susan hopped out to start digging, but I ran across another solution — two “good ol’ boys” in a jacked-up, four-wheel drive, rust-covered Suburban.
“Stuck?” “Yup.” “Need help?” “Yeah.”
With that, the passenger hopped out of the Suburban, attached a ski-rope to the front of my truck, and pulled me through the snow.
As this was going on, the guys in the Honda drove by and waved. Um, hello? YOU OWE ME A SHOVELING!
We did finally make it to Dad’s and made him a path so that his truck could get out. I got light-headed after the shoveling, so from there it was back home to warm up in front of the fireplace, in my underwear, with a mug of hot chocolate and my Chicago Bears Snuggie.
(According to the news, Yukon schools are closed again tomorrow, but no word about work yet.)
Just searched for “no good deed goes unpunished” and came across your blog. Very funny and well written. 2 thumbs up :)
We did play for hours and hours in the snow. Stopping to eat or go home and change shoes because of the creek. Though I don’t have any idea what you are talking about on the ice balls :)