Syracuse Drift

We’ve had a snowier stretch of weather lately than any I can remember before,
here in central NY or while growing up in central lower Michigan. Around
two o’clock this afternoon, I broke from grading WRT205 projects and laced up my
boots so I could shovel the yard. Really this only meant carving out
enough space for Y. to dododo his business. He seems to be just slightly
more beagle than pug, which means he’s a sniffer. Cold temps and snow
disorient him mightily, so the trips to the restyard are panicky and
vertiginous. He just whirls around, alarmed, until it no longer makes
sense to seek a guiding odor where there is none.

With a small parcel of yard shoveled, next I recruited Ph. to lend me a hand
with the front walk and driveway. All preventive shoveling, considering
that it was still snowing steadily while we cleared paths. We worked
non-stop for an hour, pausing only long enough for me to reminisce about the
nice snowblower my dad used or to wonder aloud through five or six Fred Sanford-esque
close calls. Damn sure can feel my heart pounding. Is that right? And the
banks at the edges of the drive piled higher than the Palentine Hill. Happy snow-blitzed Lupercalia.

We’ve been good about clearing the driveway in recent weeks. Might have
been just 18 inches or so when we worked it over this afternoon. And at
least four or five inches have fallen since then. Granted, it’s nothing
like the winterized souls are getting just north of us in Oswego and surrounding
areas. Over 100 inches in a week? I’m crying uncle and whining about
my back with only a couple of feet of snow. I’ve never shoveled a
roof, nor would I have the snow fortitude to undertake such a thing even if it
means imminent collapse. Go on and cave in for all I care, I might say
(while on my cell phone to U-Haul).

More drifts…

  • I visited Syracuse for the first time
    three years
    ago
    on V-Day.
  • Every V-Day my mom bought J. and I each a Whitman’s Sampler. Every
    chocolate was tagged, so there were no excuses for eating those filled with
    coconut. In fact, the coconut-filled were mom’s favorite and there was
    hell to pay for (oops, did I? was that one coco…?) eating one of them.
  • Last night D. and I attended a CPR class (with a special focus on baby
    CPR), which meant I missed my weekly hoops game in Liverpool. The game was
    yike! quite a thrashing. To Illinois, no less. But we’ll get
    another shot at them late in the season.