Is that lady skiing down our street?
We’re currently snowed in and poorly-prepared to be so. Oh sure, nine inches of snow shouldn’t completely paralyze a place, but two feet of snow last December took two weeks to be reasonably plowed by our completely unprepared town. Here in rural-ville, all of our snow plows are large bumper-wide shovels strapped on the front of 4×4 farm trucks, courtesy of Joe-Bob down the street. Whereas this is better than nothing, JB will not make it to my street anytime soon, if he makes it at all, considering all of the trucks last month broke their plows 12 hours into plowing. Then we waited for Bobcats to plow one square inch at a time. Three days after the snow stopped, we were able to drive down our street. Three weeks after the snow stopped, our road was more than one lane again. I don’t think that we’re on the VDOT trucks’ GPS route. This is a town that gets a healthy dusting of snow every five years. One benefit of being this side of the mountains, they say.
Waves of happiness were washing over me just the other day, as I stood out on the deck and celebrated the melting of the last snow heap in the backyard, coupled with the final drying out of the grass/mud/earth so that we didn’t have to towel down the dog from head to tail every time he came in the back door. I woke up this morning and stumbled into the kitchen, only to be greeted by a backyard full of snow. Again.
The weather people here had said three to six inches, at best, which seemed totally conquerable, even by our inept plowers. We made a weekly menu and a grocery list. I ran out last night to the local mom-and-pop grocery down the street to pick up a gallon of milk, some root beer, and ice cream. I walked past all of the other edible items we could be eating today. The inch after inch that came down mid-morning quickly thwarted our plans to escape to the Kroger. The news people say that the road salt they use won’t help in such cold temperatures. Witnessing the few cars slipping up and down our hilly street made a stronger case for staying in, but at the expense of eating anything reasonable.
My wife made pumpkin waffles this morning, while moral was still high. Come lunchtime, we were faced with the fact that we may be stuck here for a while. We found a few chips and some leftover salsa. I toasted some tortillas and covered them with beans, onions, and cheese. Hungry moments later, I made another batch. I ate a tangerine. We took out some steak that was in the freezer and are hoping it will thaw come dinnertime. The fridge and the cabinets are full of ingredients, but nothing to make of all of them. Think a can of mandarin oranges, some salad dressing, crispy noodles, macaroni noodles, and frozen spinach. I’m sure MacGyver could whip up something nutritious, easy, delicious, and filling. With the last of the eggs and two lonely lemons, my wife is making lemon bars to help overall moral.
Moral is low, folks. Even the dog is mopey and sighing big deep grumpy sighs. A usual snow lover, it makes my heart hurt to see it still coming down outside. Sorry, Vegas, for not picking up more food last night while I was out, and feeding you old tortillas and Crystal Light all day. The lemon bars should help.