Shoveling snow off my slate front walk the other day (well, several times this winter if you want to be exact) reminded me of making a rink on Lake Katonah...we didn't mind shoveling then -- at least not TOO much. We were anxious to play "Johnny, Come Over!" so the sooner we got that rink made, the sooner we could play. I can still feel my skate percussing the ice and hear the sound of the metal shovel scraping against the ice...push, glide, push, glide along one length, then flipping the snow up off the shovel, turning myself around to begin again in the other direction. Once in awhile we'd shovel paths and play "Fox and Geese," racing and chasing each other around in a wild game of tag.
My thoughts skated down other memory lanes as I continued my shoveling in the present day...proving that shoveling snow can still provide a relaxed and happy experience.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Part of the Rural Manly Scene
Yesterday morning I drove for 20 minutes down a major highway to a small, rural town. My business there was to hang up a poster of an upcoming fundraising event. As I pulled into the wide, snowy parking lot next to the small store, I noticed several pick-up trucks. Uh oh. Instinctively I sensed that I was about to walk into a man-domain. “Oh well, “ I thought, psyching myself up to walk into the building. “I’ve driven all the way down here and I’ve got to get this up…I can do it,” and I pushed open the heavy glass and metal door to step inside. It may come as a surprise that an extrovert like me would have any qualms with this scenario…and maybe my more shy friends would be secretly exultant. Well it was worse than I anticipated – there, facing the door, were three chairs in a row with three middle-aged men sitting there, knees apart, drinking their coffee. I just about laughed out loud as they abruptly stopped their conversation to figure me out. Not being a “local,” I’m sure they wondered about me. And as I turned to my left to ask the clerk permission to hang up my poster, no doubt I got the body scan. Argh.
Naturally the bulletin board was behind the jury. So I sweetly asked if they would excuse me while I slid between two chairs to the wall above the freezer case. As I fastened the poster to the bulletin board, conversation resumed and “Mr. Important” began a litany of petty grievances about people who run around on the slippery roads in a snowstorm and then bellyache about the lack of proper sanding. He backed up his sanding job with a statistic of how much sand it took per so many miles…inarticulate sounds of agreement issued from the other two men. I squeezed back through the chairs and made for the door, thanking the blonde gal thumbing through a magazine behind the counter. I wonder if they bothered to look at my poster?
Naturally the bulletin board was behind the jury. So I sweetly asked if they would excuse me while I slid between two chairs to the wall above the freezer case. As I fastened the poster to the bulletin board, conversation resumed and “Mr. Important” began a litany of petty grievances about people who run around on the slippery roads in a snowstorm and then bellyache about the lack of proper sanding. He backed up his sanding job with a statistic of how much sand it took per so many miles…inarticulate sounds of agreement issued from the other two men. I squeezed back through the chairs and made for the door, thanking the blonde gal thumbing through a magazine behind the counter. I wonder if they bothered to look at my poster?
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