familyWake up to my phone ringing. I've gotten in the habit of leaving it on on certain nights while it charges. Usually the ones where I'm not planning to be up early, because certain people who ARE up early seem to believe in calling me. Generally, these are calls relaying information I appreciate getting, though perhaps not at the time I'm getting them.
Hmmm...not the ringtone I was hoping for. I haven't been able to get ahold of Knuter since early yesterday, and I know he had quite a bit of driving to do in this nastiness. Fretting about Knuter is ridiculous, as he's the most practical and safety-minded non-stodge I've met, but in some way I think we measure our love for someone by how ridiculous our emotions get about them. Weird.
Our nursery coordinator, letting me know church was canceled. This is odd, but considering the Apocalypse of Weather that's landing on us over this weekend, understandable. Fall back asleep, 'til Dad comes in to wake me. For whatever reason, I take anything involving too much noise before I'm properly awake as a personal attack. I can't get mad at Dad, because he doesn't usually bother me in the morning unless it's important. In this case, he needs a hand with the driveway.
Actually, all three of us are being roused. I have to confess, Munchkin's the only one of us who really has a servant's heart, and I admire her for that. I'm up because I know I need to be, and I like shoveling. "Slug" has become the household's affectionate nickname for our middle sibling, due to her lifestyle. She'll be the last one out - roused eventually, but it takes a good deal of effort.
Yesterday was a long, windy ice storm. Everything had to be iced down first, or it would blow away. I ended up off-course twice going between the store and my car. By happy accident, I parked with my trunk and driver's side taking the brunt of the wind. This means that I don't have to wrestle these plates of ice off my windshield (when I say iced-down, I mean it. Everything is covered with a half-inch of ice without exaggeration.), and I have one side of my car that is not iced shut, so I can climb in the passenger side and punch my driver's side door open.
The night before had been just a very dense snow. A little odd - soft but heavy. I'd kind of like to try skiing in it - I don't know what it would be like, but it'd be something new.
Today, we got what the munchkin declared to be "cheesecake!" In about appropriate proportions, we had deep snow, and a two-inch crust of ice underneath it. Dad had been working for about an hour, and cleared maybe ten feet.
About the servant's heart - I meant out of the three of us. Dad's servant's heart is an absolute inspiration. He just takes it for granted that he'll be doing the projects, and he's always working hard without looking for praise. Just sees the job that needs to be done, and does it. It's a trait I'm trying to foster in myself, and one I admire in the people around me.
Four-person job. Dad's got the UP-er scooper (for anyone who lives in some far-off imaginary land like Arizona, UP would be the Upper Peninsula, Michigan. The idea is that they get scads more snow there, and presumably sell it to Texas and ski hills on ebay), carting off the snow so that our driveway is encircled by a fortified embankment of solid fluff. Kiddo's varying between the ice pick and the utility shovel, breaking the ice up into chunks. I'm just using a basic snow shovel, gathering the chunks and flinging them up on the snow embankments. Our sister is standing over by the van with the red roller-shovel, looking perplexed. She doesn't do very well with mornings.
The kid and I switch off a few times. She's trying to learn "lift with your legs, not your back". Middle-child wakes up and begins excavating the van. Dad's clearing more territory - our driveway looks like a tetris figure. I'll let you guess which one - it's got four cubes, and it's not the L. Once I'm properly awake (there's something weird with the world when eight-and-a-half hours is not enough sleep), I really do enjoy this. Making progress, clearing ground, actually doing something physical, taking care of something that needs to be done, being out in the cold, having fun with my sisters...life is good!
The snow's deep, but the air's not that cold - it's definitely above zero, and probably more than seven degrees out. I head into the garage and throw my underfleece into the back of my car, get back to work. Bit later, head back in, throw my coat into my car, wear just my underfleece. Much better. Dad's down to just a work shirt, too. Munchkin exchanges layers as well. It's a good day to be out.
Someone's brought the dog out. I have to love his attitude about life. Almost everything is new, being outside is great, being with people is wonderful, and let's go run over here and see what we can find! Constant spirit of happiness. Munchkin calls him over now and again, and he lights up, making these bounds to try to get through the deep snow faster to be with her. He's definitely her dog. We've got this game we play with him, pitching snowballs. He'll leap in the air and snap at them, and get powder all over his face. If he misses one, he'll go hunting for it in the snow - nevermind that the one he comes up with is nothing like the one thrown to him. I intend to have a shepherd mix in my own family someday.
Dad and the kid switch off, I take to ice-chipping. After an incident with the sidewalk, I'm a little leery of the ice pick. Already this morning, I've taken two chips out of the concrete driveway with just the steel shovel. I'll stick with the shovel, thank you very much. Dog's off down in the woods, exploring. Technically, in-town leash laws frown on this, but we're the only people outside down here, and he comes when called.
There's a constant banter being called back and forth across the driveway. Just silly stuff, lines from movies we've all seen and loved (that almost no one else in our peer group would know), bits of songs, a take on "Whassup?", banter about the proper way to execute this particular task, questioning the ethics of snowfall...all the things we are. I was voted "Most Unique" in my senior class, and it's no secret that my sisters will likely be attaining the same honor. I do feel blessed to have them as my family.
The kid declares that at ten we should take a break and have breakfast. Dad's response is not a refusal, but an argument of the merits - which carries the underlying message that if we convince him, it shall be so. A compromise is proposed, success is attained. All the snow's cleared, the current ice chunks are cleared off - FOOD!
Yes, we sound like that when we come in. Mom's been making breakfast for her four hungry bears, a fact that is well-appreciated, and admired. I wish I could be that kind of mom, but I'm pretty sure that in my family, I'll be the one who goes out to shovel - I like it more. Mom likes being inside where it's warm.
This is not to say that I don't enjoy cooking. There's a point of pride and happiness in being able to make something for the people you care about. But given the choice, I'd rather be out in the drifts, throwing snow and clearing ground.
It's a sort of breakfast-lunch. My concern for Knuter (who I STILL haven't heard from) brings him and the ski hill into the conversation. Debate about what today would be like on the snow, different places we've all gone (Mom and Dad's experiences have all been out East, ours have been here), terrific accidents middle-child's had, raucous debate and generally good feeling.
I know my home here is temporary, and that I'll have a larger family when I do go Home. But I can tell you that it is a point of joy that my current family will be there, too.
Hmmm...not the ringtone I was hoping for. I haven't been able to get ahold of Knuter since early yesterday, and I know he had quite a bit of driving to do in this nastiness. Fretting about Knuter is ridiculous, as he's the most practical and safety-minded non-stodge I've met, but in some way I think we measure our love for someone by how ridiculous our emotions get about them. Weird.
Our nursery coordinator, letting me know church was canceled. This is odd, but considering the Apocalypse of Weather that's landing on us over this weekend, understandable. Fall back asleep, 'til Dad comes in to wake me. For whatever reason, I take anything involving too much noise before I'm properly awake as a personal attack. I can't get mad at Dad, because he doesn't usually bother me in the morning unless it's important. In this case, he needs a hand with the driveway.
Actually, all three of us are being roused. I have to confess, Munchkin's the only one of us who really has a servant's heart, and I admire her for that. I'm up because I know I need to be, and I like shoveling. "Slug" has become the household's affectionate nickname for our middle sibling, due to her lifestyle. She'll be the last one out - roused eventually, but it takes a good deal of effort.
Yesterday was a long, windy ice storm. Everything had to be iced down first, or it would blow away. I ended up off-course twice going between the store and my car. By happy accident, I parked with my trunk and driver's side taking the brunt of the wind. This means that I don't have to wrestle these plates of ice off my windshield (when I say iced-down, I mean it. Everything is covered with a half-inch of ice without exaggeration.), and I have one side of my car that is not iced shut, so I can climb in the passenger side and punch my driver's side door open.
The night before had been just a very dense snow. A little odd - soft but heavy. I'd kind of like to try skiing in it - I don't know what it would be like, but it'd be something new.
Today, we got what the munchkin declared to be "cheesecake!" In about appropriate proportions, we had deep snow, and a two-inch crust of ice underneath it. Dad had been working for about an hour, and cleared maybe ten feet.
About the servant's heart - I meant out of the three of us. Dad's servant's heart is an absolute inspiration. He just takes it for granted that he'll be doing the projects, and he's always working hard without looking for praise. Just sees the job that needs to be done, and does it. It's a trait I'm trying to foster in myself, and one I admire in the people around me.
Four-person job. Dad's got the UP-er scooper (for anyone who lives in some far-off imaginary land like Arizona, UP would be the Upper Peninsula, Michigan. The idea is that they get scads more snow there, and presumably sell it to Texas and ski hills on ebay), carting off the snow so that our driveway is encircled by a fortified embankment of solid fluff. Kiddo's varying between the ice pick and the utility shovel, breaking the ice up into chunks. I'm just using a basic snow shovel, gathering the chunks and flinging them up on the snow embankments. Our sister is standing over by the van with the red roller-shovel, looking perplexed. She doesn't do very well with mornings.
The kid and I switch off a few times. She's trying to learn "lift with your legs, not your back". Middle-child wakes up and begins excavating the van. Dad's clearing more territory - our driveway looks like a tetris figure. I'll let you guess which one - it's got four cubes, and it's not the L. Once I'm properly awake (there's something weird with the world when eight-and-a-half hours is not enough sleep), I really do enjoy this. Making progress, clearing ground, actually doing something physical, taking care of something that needs to be done, being out in the cold, having fun with my sisters...life is good!
The snow's deep, but the air's not that cold - it's definitely above zero, and probably more than seven degrees out. I head into the garage and throw my underfleece into the back of my car, get back to work. Bit later, head back in, throw my coat into my car, wear just my underfleece. Much better. Dad's down to just a work shirt, too. Munchkin exchanges layers as well. It's a good day to be out.
Someone's brought the dog out. I have to love his attitude about life. Almost everything is new, being outside is great, being with people is wonderful, and let's go run over here and see what we can find! Constant spirit of happiness. Munchkin calls him over now and again, and he lights up, making these bounds to try to get through the deep snow faster to be with her. He's definitely her dog. We've got this game we play with him, pitching snowballs. He'll leap in the air and snap at them, and get powder all over his face. If he misses one, he'll go hunting for it in the snow - nevermind that the one he comes up with is nothing like the one thrown to him. I intend to have a shepherd mix in my own family someday.
Dad and the kid switch off, I take to ice-chipping. After an incident with the sidewalk, I'm a little leery of the ice pick. Already this morning, I've taken two chips out of the concrete driveway with just the steel shovel. I'll stick with the shovel, thank you very much. Dog's off down in the woods, exploring. Technically, in-town leash laws frown on this, but we're the only people outside down here, and he comes when called.
There's a constant banter being called back and forth across the driveway. Just silly stuff, lines from movies we've all seen and loved (that almost no one else in our peer group would know), bits of songs, a take on "Whassup?", banter about the proper way to execute this particular task, questioning the ethics of snowfall...all the things we are. I was voted "Most Unique" in my senior class, and it's no secret that my sisters will likely be attaining the same honor. I do feel blessed to have them as my family.
The kid declares that at ten we should take a break and have breakfast. Dad's response is not a refusal, but an argument of the merits - which carries the underlying message that if we convince him, it shall be so. A compromise is proposed, success is attained. All the snow's cleared, the current ice chunks are cleared off - FOOD!
Yes, we sound like that when we come in. Mom's been making breakfast for her four hungry bears, a fact that is well-appreciated, and admired. I wish I could be that kind of mom, but I'm pretty sure that in my family, I'll be the one who goes out to shovel - I like it more. Mom likes being inside where it's warm.
This is not to say that I don't enjoy cooking. There's a point of pride and happiness in being able to make something for the people you care about. But given the choice, I'd rather be out in the drifts, throwing snow and clearing ground.
It's a sort of breakfast-lunch. My concern for Knuter (who I STILL haven't heard from) brings him and the ski hill into the conversation. Debate about what today would be like on the snow, different places we've all gone (Mom and Dad's experiences have all been out East, ours have been here), terrific accidents middle-child's had, raucous debate and generally good feeling.
I know my home here is temporary, and that I'll have a larger family when I do go Home. But I can tell you that it is a point of joy that my current family will be there, too.
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Re: Mums kill their boys - how sad. in this day and age to be reduced to this.
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