I sold my last tutu skirt last weekend
it was gray and sparkled and poofed
tulle that landed just above my knee.
I used to wear it with a pink butterfly top,
the butterflies fluttered when I walked,
tennis shoes with flowers,
and my Minnie ears as I skipped
Main Street, looking in store windows,
the smell of popcorn and cookies and cotton candy streaming out shop doors.
That tutu skirt was princesses,
I sold my last tutu skirt last weekend,
there were two others,
one was left behind in Florida,
the other sold to a woman back in August.
Her daughter wanted to wear it to Disney World,
I wanted it to go home.
It was green and pink and blue,
rested on my waist and
went to my calf.
It went well with the pink butterfly tank top,
she bought the butterflies too.
I sold my last tutu skirt last weekend.
walked past the dresses
in the resale store.
Stood in the athletic wear section
trying to figure out what would be best
for hiking trails and visiting waterfalls.
A lot of neon,
a lot of black,
I turned in my cheap Payless sneakers
for good walking tennis shoes,
perfect for tracking through mud and
up stone stairs.
I sold my second to last tutu skirt last weekend.
I have one more tucked away.
Preserved in a box, hiding away in the closet,
one hundred yards of tulle,
all white with a flower sash.
That skirt is fireflies and
fireworks, promises and
pink and yellow daisies.
I still have one tutu skirt left,
a part of me will always be a princess.
April is National Poetry Month! Write a poem today! ❤️
I’m up way past my bedtime. You see I started watching this show 13 Reasons Why on Netflix earlier this week and when I got home today I had to finish it. I needed to know why it happened, how it happened, I wanted someone to blame. It scared me and it made me uncomfortable and sad but I needed to watch it.
Marc actually watched a lot of it with me. Each night after we watched a few episodes we would talk about what happened in the show and how we felt about it.
I felt so conflicted a lot of the time. I analyzed this fictional character’s life, her actions, the people in her lives actions. At first I was mad at her, because I thought it was mean of her to leave behind these tapes to torture the people who tortured her. Because yes, what they all did was wrong, but does that make what she was doing with these tapes right? To blackmail these kids? Is that right? Do two wrongs make a right?
Then I was mad at her because she was mean to the one person who was nice to her, she picked on him and made fun of him and got mad at him because he was clueless. But I didn’t like him either because I wanted him to just tell someone that he was upset and I didn’t know why he didn’t just communicate with his parents and I talk so much and I’d don’t understand why he couldn’t.
I was mad at the guidance counselor, I was mad at Hannah not stopping the guy from raping her friend, I was mad at Tony for hiding everything from Hannah’s parents, I was mad at Clay’s parents for continuing to jus let him run around the city even though he was clearly going through things. He’d get in trouble for something and then they’d just let him leave on his bike again. He was SUSPENDED, and he had no restrictions from his parents.
The last couple episodes scared me, because things that I see on shows that actually happen in real life that are horrifying scare me. And when Netflix puts up disclaimers in front of episodes you know it’s a big deal. I’ve never seen anything like that before.
And when the show ended and I felt like things weren’t resolved and this was such a real situation but I didn’t feel how I thought I should be feeling, there was this half hour after the show, where professionals talked about the different parts of the show where I felt conflicted. They said it was okay to feel that way about this character, because she wasn’t perfect either, and there were things she could have done, and the guidance counselor could have done, and they discussed how kids today had such a hard time communicating.
I consider myself lucky in that I am the most comfortable talking about my issues. When I lived at home my mom would come down to my room and stand in the doorway and we’d talk about our days and some days we would stand in the kitchen eating chocolate chips out of the bag and I would always feel so much better after talking about anything and everything and analyzing every part of my day.
But then I also remember my mom picking me up at prom and sitting in the car in the parking lot and not knowing at all how to describe what I was feeling and why, and I cried because it was just this overwhelming feeling of being uncomfortable and surrounded by people but still feeling alone. It’s terrifying.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to be a teenager now, with everything online. That was all sort of starting up when I first moved to Florida. Social media at least. Even now social media for me is overwhelming. It didn’t used to be until I started to let it run my life.
It’s so hard to keep up a fake happy appearance all the time. To compete with everyone else’s highlight reels. It’s exhausting to put on that show constantly. I gave up social media for Lent, I did the same last year, and it’s been so nice not feeling like I have to compete with anything or anyone, or to paint this picture of our lives being totally perfect. Because that’s not how life is.
I don’t have to post funny statuses all the time, I don’t feel obligated to do things on days when I’d rather just hang out at home. I do things because I want to do them, and not because I feel like I need to post them online for everyone to see. I’m barely on my phone anymore. I never have to charge it during the day. I read more, I write more, I talk to my family more.
I know, you’re probably like “well you don’t HAVE to post things.” I know, but it’s my personality that makes me addicted, to knowing what people are doing, to wanting to know what they think of me. How many likes did I get, how my notifications do I have? How many followers or friends?
I don’t want to be lost behind my phone anymore. I eat breakfast with the curtains open and I watch the sun rise. I feel like I’m allowed to have bad days, on social media you can’t have bad days. I want to be cut off from everyone so I can stop living in my past life and in everyone else’s lives and try to work on my present life and what I want out of my life here in Ithaca.
I’ve been struggling with what I’m going to do once Lent ends. Sometimes I miss my Instagram and Snapchat. I will probably download them again. I don’t ever miss my Facebook. That I probably won’t bring back. I’m going to try and limit my time on them, because I like who I am without my social media. I like not feeling like I have to put on a show, it’s tough to be “on” all the time.
Anyway, I got way off track here. The show. In the end I was very upset with Hannah Baker. I was mad at her for what she did to her parents. That scene where they found her destroyed me. It bothered me so much I covered my ears and closed my eyes. I was mad at the other kids for getting her there. I was mad at the counselor for automatically assuming that whatever happened at the party was her fault. What did SHE do to cause someone to rape her? Because that’s always where everyone goes first, isn’t it? Well maybe if she didn’t wear this or maybe if she didn’t do that. It’s disgusting.
This show made me think, it made me feel, and most importantly, it gets you talking. Because that’s the most important thing is to get people talking about issues that no one wants to talk about because they make you feel uncomfortable. I recommend watching it. Decide on your own how you feel about Hannah Baker. I’m interested in hearing what you have to say.
I’m going to start off by saying that I enjoyed Power Rangers way more than Beauty and the Beast. I’m not saying that Power Rangers was better than Beauty and the Beast (because Power Ranger was seriously SO BAD but I LOVED it), but I genuinely enjoyed watching it more.
I grew up loving both Beauty and the Beast and Power Rangers. The Disney movie wrapped me up in that Princess fantasy bubble, while Power Rangers had girls kicking ass. On the outside I wanted to be a princess, but on the inside I wanted to kick ass. I wanted to be Kimberly more than I wanted to be Belle, but all the girls wanted to be Belle, so that’s what I said too.
I had really high expectations for Beauty and the Beast. I loved the animated movie and the Broadway show, I freaked out with everyone else when the first trailer was released and that music I had grown up with started playing while snow fell around the castle. When I finally saw it though, I felt like I was let down. I know I’m in the minority here, since everyone I’ve talked to praises this movie to no end.
But I wanted MORE from this movie. The actors weren’t enthusiastic enough, they sang beautifully but everyone’s facial expressions always looked bored. During the songs it seemed like everyone was just going through the motions after a long day of filming. Like the movie was almost there, but just didn’t seem like enough to me. It was missing that magic that the animated movie and the Broadway show had. It was a good movie, but it wasn’t great. It was a huge disappointment, and I feel like I can’t really talk about it because people get really defensive if you criticize this movie. I like to be honest here though, I didn’t like it. It was a good movie, but it wasn’t as GREAT as I wanted it to be. I didn’t genuinely laugh once, it was more forced because I wanted to like it.
Can we also talk about how Gaston pulls out a GUN and shoots the beast like 3 times and the beast still somehow gets himself back in that tower and can coherently talk to Belle before dying? How were the raging parents okay with the gun, but not okay with the gay character? I mean, really.
Best part though was seeing the Beast turn into the guy from Legion at the end. I love that guy, and I love that whacked out show. Like WTF is even happening in each episode? I have no fucking clue, but it’s great.
Oh, and Celine Dion has a song in the credits. I LOVE YOU CELINE! #steflovesceline4ever
Moving on to Power Rangers (WAIT STOP IF YOU DON’T WANT TO READ SPOILERS YOU MUST STOP READING NOW AND GO SEE THE MOVIE AND THEN COME BACK.) WELCOME BACK! Did you LOVE it? OMG me too. I’m sure I will lose all credibility here (I really don’t actually have any sort of credibility when it comes to movies, I just see a lot of them and like to act like I know things) but I LOVED this movie because it was just as terrible as the TV show.
First, let me set the scene for you as we are walking into the movie theater yesterday. So, I’m SO GEEKED. I have my popcorn and a small soda that is basically a large because that’s how we do things now a days and I’m skipping to the theater with Marc and tons of popcorn pieces trailing behind and we find our theater and you know how theaters have that like digital thing scrolling above the door that says “Power Rangers 12:40 PM” well this one says that, then scrolls away followed by “Happy Birthday Vaughn!” and we are like “…Oh no.” We slowly walk into the theater and there, in the first row right in front of the metal bars that separates the upper seating from the lower seating, are a bunch of signs that say “Reserved”. A birthday party. God help us. The youths had not yet arrived, but we’d seen them rolling around like a ball of tiny humans beating the crap out of each other in the birthday party room.
So we go and take our seats a safe distance away from the reserved row, and spend the next 10 minutes or so watching Maria Manunos tell us about what terrible shows are coming to Freeform. Spoiler alert, they’re garbage and one has Bella Thorne.
About 5 minutes before the trailers are about to start, these children come stampeding in. Who knew 6 year olds could stomp SO LOUD. I’m not kidding, the ground was shaking, and the entire theater audience braced itself for the madness. They come in tackling each other and stepping over each other and diving onto the seats and over the bars. No parents yet, of course. I’m sure they were looking for somewhere to serve them an alcoholic beverage. I know I’d need one if I was in charge of handling twelve 6 year old boys for the day. Noooooo thank you.
The youths finally get themselves seated and the woman I’m assuming is the mother rolls on in and starts the photo shoot with one of those monster cameras and her flash is going off every 2 seconds. “Honey! HONEY LOOK THIS WAY LOOK THIS WAY!” Because movie birthday parties are apparently a big deal. Then there’s of course photo shoot round 2 with the iPhone. She didn’t have her flash on then, so you know those photos were going to be grainy and useless, but in this day and age you have to have SOMETHING to post on Facebook right away to brag to the other moms about how much fun your kid is having and how great of a parent you are. “Look at me! I took all this young children to a PG-13 movie!” We get it you’re the cool mom, now calm down and take a seat.
Then, RIGHT BEFORE THE MOVIE IS ABOUT TO START, someone who I assume is the theater manager/party manager brings in a rolling cart filled with popcorn and sodas. This was a two hour movie. I expected the children to be bouncing of the walls in about 30 minutes. The lights went down and we all just hoped for the best.
Back to the movie. It was ridiculous, it was awful, and it met all my expectations. If you’ve ever seen the Power Rangers show or the Power Rangers original movie, you know how awful it is. There are explosions and then people are flying backwards 10 minutes later. There’s horrible dialogue, 30 year olds playing high school kids, so many back flips, and why did no one ever notice that when their watches beeped these “kids” would all creep into a corner and start whispering to each other and INTO THEIR WATCHES. But there were girls kicking ass and as a kid I LOVED IT. Belle never kicked any ass. She just read books and stayed locked in a castle. I wanted to do more than read books. I secretly wanted to be a superhero.
This Power Rangers movie was exactly what I expected it to be. Marc laughed saying it was angsty Breakfast Club meets Power Rangers. He was not wrong.
The actors were better than the original show/movie, though still not great. Red Ranger looked oddly like Zac Efron? Maybe they’re related? I’m too lazy to look it up. Becky G showed up as the yellow ranger, and Marc leaned over and whispered, “Isn’t that the girl who opened at that Demi Lovato concert?” I have never been so proud. Then she says something later and he leans over again, and says “She enjoys singing in the shower.” I DIED. I have never had more fun at a movie.
Marc and I see a lot of movies, and we usually sit and watch very intently, never look at each other, never speak, we laugh when parts are funny, I gasp and cover my eyes a lot, and then later we go to lunch or dinner and have a thorough discussion about the movie from start to finish. But we were in the theater of kids who, when one of the girls goes swimming in her underwear, screamed “EW BOOBS” and we were the only people there who didn’t bring children. Side note: I did say this movie was PG-13, right? Does no one pay attention to ratings anymore? I know your kids watched Power Rangers on Nickelodeon, but seriously this movie starts off with a joke about a teenager trying to milk a bull, thinking it was a female cow. That’s where we’re going here. Regardless, we were throwing side comments like crazy during this one.
We laughed and laughed about the nonsense product placement, you could have a really successful drinking game for every time “Krispy Kreme” is mentioned, and about just how silly the whole movie was. It was a really wonderful time, even after the sugar and caffeine kicked in and all the youths started to lose their minds 30 minutes before the film ended.
I think the thing is, Beauty and the Beast took itself too seriously, where Power Rangers wanted to and then realized there’s just no way you can do that with the material you’re working with. Another side note, the new Power Ranger costumes had BUTT CHEEK PADS. I AM BEING SO SERIOUS RIGHT NOW.
Rita was actually really creepy. I thought Elizabeth Banks did a nice job stealing everyone’s gold teeth fillings to make her monster.
Fun fact, did you know they want to make FOUR MORE of these movies? I can barely contain my excitement. I’m all about it, truly. Marc and I will be there, loving it and laughing. Because sometimes you just need that kind of movie. #buttcheekpads #billyisthebest #iheartnerds
P.S. If you have seen this movie and enjoy podcasts, I recommend downloading the Power Rangers episode of We Hate Movies where they make fun of this movie. I laughed so hard, it made my day.
A few days ago I realized that Marc and I have been in Ithaca almost a year now. When I meet new people and they ask how long we’ve been here, I still find myself saying, “We just moved here.” But when I actually think about it, we will have been here a year on May 6th, I believe.
We had been planning and prepping for our move for almost two years, which gave me a lot of time to build up this wonderful imaginary idea of how it was all going to be. We also sometimes talked about if we were doing the best thing for us, and if it was the right time. As those of you who know me know, the move has not been easy and when I’m surrounded by 10 feet of snow and I’m pouring bags of wooden pellets into a pellet stove to heat our home like I’m on Little House on the Prairie, I like to question my life choices.
But when we first moved to Florida it wasn’t easy either. We moved there when Tropical Storm Fay was trying to decide if she was gonna go, or stay, or come back. That damn storm zigzagged all over Orlando like 10 times. I had never seen so much rain before. I was trying to get everything set with my college classes, get all my books, figure out what the hell our address was (seriously our first address was SO long), and get everything set with my two jobs, all while getting lost on I-4 during monsoon rains and rush hour. And EVERYONE was driving through that shit with their hazard lights on. Wtf Floridians, you live there get it together.
Moving to Ithaca was a different kind of scary, in that we went from a place that was constantly buzzing with activity, to place that was much like my hometown in Michigan, where when I was younger I would feel trapped in my room with nowhere to go. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that I just wasn’t looking hard enough because there is always somewhere to go.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Ithaca in the year that I’ve been here, there is always something to do. Sure, it’s not walking down the street and strolling into Universal for a Butterbeer, or wearing my tutu skirt and Mickey Mouse years around the Magic Kingdom, but it’s this laid back, lets go hang out and talk to the locals about whatever the hell you feel like type of entertainment that I’ve started to find very amusing.
For example, this past weekend Ithaca College hosted Ithacon. Think Comicon, but a lot more low key. Like you won’t see the cast of the newest DC movie, but you also won’t have to wait in a 10 hour line and stand shoulder to shoulder in a crowd of people to look at merchandise. My little nephew had his face painted like a cat, and got to sit and make fantasy themed crafts for two hours. He was in toddler heaven. I also got into a fight with a tube of glitter glue. It was on the wall and in my hair. I promise I am an adult. Anyway, there were panels, speakers (Roger Stern and Jim Shooter were there. If you’re into comics this is a big deal. I didn’t get a chance to see the presentation because we were crafting which is way more important because I got to make a crown with FLOWERS, be jealous, but I’m sure the presentation it was pretty awesome.) crafts for kids, workshops, and vendors. I got to wear my Hogwarts outfit for the second time since moving here. That in itself is a win.
The section with the vendors I think was one of my favorites. Ithaca has so many talented people, and they were all selling prints of their art and their own comics for SO cheap. We visited one of the tables, and the two guys were giving us some prices, all the comics were a dollar, their art was a dollar, you buy 5 you get 1 free. I was baffled, and made a comment about everything being so cheap. One of the guys laughed and said, “Why yes, I am cheap.” I explained to them that I had moved here from Orlando, at Disney World a sheet of stickers is twenty dollars, and the guy said, “Well in THAT case, these are 30 and these are 100!” People in Ithaca just love to talk. No one was pressuring us to buy anything, they just love to chat.
I think it’s because the areas around here are so spread out, that the only time we are all around people is when we go to work and when we go to these events. We go out to grocery shop and it’s like “OMG HUMANS!” It also still is so weird to me that when I go places here, because it’s so small, I actually see people I know, or someone I’m related to. I went 10 years in Florida without seeing anyone I know when I went to run errands. In Ithaca I see someone every weekend. It puts the pressure on to actually look nice before I go out, instead of rolling out of bed, throwing a hat on, and venturing out in yesterday’s outfit, which I also slept in.
Don’t judge me, I’m sure you’ve done it before.
Anyway, so to sort of recap all this really great and fun stuff we’ve done since we got here, I wanted to share some pictures of Ithacon, and some pictures from our first year. Ithaca really is a beautiful place, and even though it’s been a huge adjustment from the insanity that was Orlando, I am truly happy that we’re here. I’m also going to like bookmark this, so when there is another 10 feet of snow in like July or something, or I’m in our bathroom and I hear a river in the crawl space (aka the spider dungeon) under our house because the yard is flooded and the ground is frozen and water is just like EVERYWHERE, I can look back at this and be like, “Huh, I did say I was happy here. Alright let’s go get the damn shovels and get this shit handled.”
P.S. There is going to be a great post about being a first time homeowner coming up soon. I just have to be in the right mood to write it. Because like we have no idea what the hell is even going on half the time, it is a whole different level of adulting that I’m pretty sure the school of life should offer a class on. As my nephew said yesterday, as we were sitting at a table making crowns with stickers and glitter glue and tulle, “I don’t even know what I’m doing right now.” Me neither kid, I say that to myself almost everyday. It’s good to know we are on the same page.
During one of the days Marc and I were stranded in the house during snowmageddon, he was watching trailers for upcoming video games on YouTube. Of course, YouTube is a rabbit hole so you start at video game trailers and the next thing you know you’re watching some nerd play a video game in his parent’s basement for 10 hours. Well, the screen skipped to a Crash Bandicoot game, and Marc explained to me that they were rebooting a couple of the games that Naughty Dog did. As I watched the game play it was like suddenly I was in the basement of my parents house, my sister and I, and our friends who lived in the house behind ours.
In the summer we’d sit in front of the TV for hours, passing the controller back and forth, each of us getting through the levels we were best at. Early in the morning we’d congregate at each other’s houses, searching for gems, and crystals, crashing boxes and chanting ‘OOGA BOOGA’ when we hit a box with the floating mask. We’d also play the Crash Bandicoot racing game, and make teams and compete.
My sister and I got our love of video games from our brother. We grew up watching his friends play Command and Conquer in the basement, with so many TVs and Playstations all connected together. They’d sit in different rooms so they couldn’t see what the other person was planning. We’d sit on the floor and watch, waiting patiently until we were old enough to try.
I took to Mortal Kombat very early on. One night when we were staying at our grandma’s house, we brought whatever game system we had at the time and played Mortal Kombat and Killer Instinct. Blood was all over that screen and my poor grandma had no idea what was going on when we’d all yell, “FINISH HIM” and mash the buttons so fast, the codes printed out on the papers in front of us.
I liked the fighting games when I was little, because Mario at the time was too hard. I grew bored of the Little Mermaid, Ducktales, and Looney Toons games that I had on my Gameboy. It wasn’t even the colored one, that Gameboy took 4 AA batteries. It was a monster. And if you weren’t at a save spot and the screen started to fade, you best hightail your ass to a plug as fast as you can cause all that hard work could be gone FOREVER.
As I got a little older I grew attached to Pokemon. All my friends would trade Pokemon with this cord we bought and we’d link up our Gameboys at sleepovers and have battles. My sister and I would on a weekly basis rent Pokemon Snap and Pokemon Stadium, which came with the attachment where you could put your Gameboy cartridge in and battle your Pokemon on the TV. It was a big deal.
One day when we went to the Family Video and they were out of the Pokemon game, we rented Mario Party and a new obsession began. It was another game we’d sit with our friends with for hours in the cool basement in the summer, eating snacks and trying to decide if we wanted to play the long version of the game or the short version. Very rarely did we make it through the long version, it was like playing Monopoly, sometimes you just had to accept that it was never going to end.
I took a little break from video games then, because Pokemon wasn’t cool anymore and kids at school were making fun of me, and we didn’t see our neighbor friends as much because we were all different ages and we were growing up.
It’s sad when playing Legos and creating a little world for these Lego monkeys that we had stops being so funny, or having Beanie Baby wars or pretending your spies and writing journals about Super Carpet Man stops being the best part of your summer. I still have one of those notebooks by the way, because I just have a really strong attachment to things so I keep it stashed away with all my notebooks of Nsync fanfiction. I’m going to put that stuff in my will, whoever ends up with it should be so lucky.
Then one year for my sister’s birthday I got her a video game called Kingdom Hearts. I was in high school and seriously that game changed my life. Okay, I know that’s an exaggeration, but it reminded me why I love video games so much. They have the ability to make you so happy and so mad within short periods of time. You know what I also realized in high school, boys LOVED to talk about video games. If you ever want to be a bro, and earn yourself a permanent spot in the friend zone, be a girl who likes to talk about video games. My sister ended up never really playing this game at all, but she’d watch me, and we’d sit downstairs like we did when we were kids, watching a boy with huge pants and tons of zippers and crazy hair, run around with Donald, Goofy, and Mickey, beating the shit out of stuff with a giant key to save Disney princesses.
It’s really great, seriously, like the Final Fantasy people make this game. I hear the songs that were in the game and it still gives me goose bumps to this day.
Then the second one came out and I spent the entire spring break of my senior year at my aunt’s house in Detroit playing this game. Roxas (aka Jesse McCartney) will be in my heart 4ever. #RoxasandAxelBFFS4Life
One of the things I love about Marc is that he loves video games. He acts like it’s no big deal, but he actually follows up on all the ones he likes, he sells ones he’s finished and preorders new ones. He brings them home and opens them up and reads the little booklets inside. When we first started dating, I would try to explain to him how I felt when the second Kingdom Hearts game finished, and the song was playing and all the characters were together again, and the cut scene looked like a movie. The first time I finished the game I cried. I told him this and he didn’t place me in the friend zone guys, WIN for ME.
Now I enjoy watching Marc play video games more than playing them myself. He really likes when his character falls off a cliff or something and I make sure to point out that he died and will need to start over. I’m the perfect video game spectator. I don’t think I’ve grown too old for the games; I’ve just lost that patience and ability to sit in one place and dedicate myself to something for so long.
Unless of course that Kingdom Hearts 3 game ever comes out, because then I’ll be taking a week off work and not leaving the couch because it’s been WAY TOO LONG. Don’t toy with me with your Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop, 365/whatever, 2.8937649834983458973458, THAT IS NOT A NEW GAME SQUARE ENIX GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.
But I mean, whatever, its fine. It’s not like I care or anything. Kind of like I don’t care that the Kingdom Hearts Pops don’t have any of the main characters other than Disney Characters. It’s basically the dumbest thing ever in the entire world.
Again though, not like I care.
P.S. – Hey Funko Pop, plz make a Sora and a Roxas. Kthxbye.
After moving to Ithaca, the first big snowstorm we experienced was in November, right before Thanksgiving.
We were not prepared at all.
The heat in our house is primarily from a pellet stove. We did not buy enough pellets to get us through a few days, and we had no snowblower or shovel to clear out the driveway. We were cold and trapped. It was horrid.
Snowmageddon started on Monday night. I got an alert from the college that school was closed at around 5:00 AM, so I went back to sleep and settled in for a day of nothing. We had a snow blower now, and a shovel, and some salt for the sidewalk, and extra food, and enough pellets for a week. We were set this time.
Or so we thought.
What we realized was we know nothing.
On Tuesday, we decided to go out in the afternoon and clear out the driveway, that way it wouldn’t be as bad on Wednesday, just in case I had to go to work. Well, the snow blower couldn’t handle all the snow. It was too high and too heavy. We only have one shovel. So Marc and I took turns shoveling our driveway that seemed like it was a million miles long at the time, and the wind was blowing so bad it’s like the minute we moved some snow, it was blowing right back. We then dug my car out, and went back inside.
Thankfully the school was closed again Wednesday, so at 2:30 PM, we went back out for round 2. There was a snow drift in the middle of the driveway that was about 4 feet. We tried to call some plowing places, but everyone was too busy to come out and do one driveway.
We had to shovel it in layers. Marc went into the garage and found a dustpan, and was chiseling the top layers of snow off so it was easier to shovel. That’s right, we were out shoveling 4 to 5 feet of snow with one shovel and a dust pan. We were clearly masters of the snow.
At this point we were questioning our life choices, as we sometimes do.
We made a pathway for Marc’s car, and shimmied it down the driveway, as he would have to get out to work on Thursday.
Now we have come to this morning. The sun was shining, and the beast had passed. Marc went out and spent 2 hours digging out a small pathway at the end of the driveway where the plows had blocked us in. I was tasked with clearing out the remainder of the end of the driveway, and the spot behind my car.
As I watched Marc drive out of the driveway to leave for work, a plow came right behind him and closed the driveway back up. Sighing, I put on my ten layers of clothes, stuck in my headphones, and headed out into the tundra dragging the shovel behind me. I haven’t been doing my homework for my self-defense class, so I still have no arm muscles, and my arms were feeling it from two days of shoveling. So this morning I was half-assing the shoveling.
I cleared a few areas, then went and stood in front of the mountain at the end of the driveway. It was about 4 and a half feet high, all rocks and ice chunks and snow. There were two larger mountains on the left and right, about 5 and 6 feet tall. I pushed the shovel into the mountain, it pushed back, and I surrendered to winter. I kicked the mountain, or what I could see of it with my huge hood on with my ear muffs and my hat underneath. I dragged my shovel back to the garage, came inside, sat in front of the pellet stove to dry off, and called a plow.
Take that stupid snow.
BUT THE SNOW WAS NOT DONE WITH ME YET.
SO, get this, snow plow comes I’m outside waving the guy to the correct house, he clears off the end of the driveway, then books it going crazy fast into the driveway, his truck flies into one of the 8 foot tall mountains, and GETS. STUCK. I stood there watching him try to back up, but the plow was stuck on the top of the mountain, and the truck could not get enough traction on the driveway to back up. Our next door neighbors daughter is shaking her head. She was not pleased I called her in the first place.
I sighed, and went back inside. Only I would think of calling a plow, only to have it get stuck and then need a tow.
I watched the truck out the window in our laundry room for a good ten minutes, assuming he called for some sort of back up. Then another truck comes in, they hook the truck up to the plow, and the guy pulls it free. The plow proceeds to clear out our driveway.
In conclusion, it is March, Snowmageddon kicked our ass, our snow blower is useless in heavy snow, and shoveling is. a. bitch. Oliver has also not been able to use the bathroom in the backyard since Tuesday, after I lost him in a snowbank Tuesday afternoon. Thankfully our house has some sort of tornado around it, so the front and side have a perfectly clear ring of grass. Oliver is still not pleased.
I’d like to say we’ll be more prepared next year, but I highly doubt it. We just aren’t very good at wintering, apparently. I mean, if you call a snow plow, and the snow plow gets stuck in your driveway and needs to call a tow truck, I think that’s some sort of sign. I’m still analyzing it, but it has to be a sign. Thankfully summer is coming, and we are much better at summering than wintering. Winter 2. Stephanie and Marc 0.
I remember learning at a young age that there is a weather recipe that makes the perfect guaranteed snow day. You see, first it has to start with rain, around 8:00 or 9:00 at night. Then, that ran has to freeze around midnight, followed by a fast heavy snow that grows and grows so quickly that the plows can’t possibly clear the roads fast enough. If all that happens, then you’ll wake up the next morning to see your school listed at the bottom of the screen on the news and you’ve got yourself a snow day. If it continues to snow, then you could get the coveted second snow day in a row.
There was a movie on this, I think Nickelodeon made it and it’s currently on Netflix. The kids waste their entire snow day trying to ruin the snow plow man’s life so they can get a SECOND snow day. Talk about being selfish and wasting a full free day. Youths.
As kids we used to spend our snow days running around the back yard making now forts. My dad had this huge white bucket that we would fill and make walls. We’d roll giant snow boulders and make snow angels. Then my brother and his friends would come over and he’d stuff my face in the snow and sit on me and ask me if I could breathe.
Our dad would shovel the driveway and make huge mountains. We’d climb them and wave at our mom through the kitchen window. I don’t remember who told us never to build snow tunnels, but that was a huge no. Because the snow could collapse on you and you’d suffocate and die, right there in your backyard. I mean, if there’s one way to make a child fear snow or tunnels, it’s that.
Of course once you finish school there are no more snow days and snow is this evil thing that makes driving to work a huge pain in the ass. It takes twice as long and you just sort of slide around with other cars and you just all slide around hoping you don’t hit each other.
The first winter I was in community college, I spent a lot of time driving down the country roads avoiding snow drifts and squinting through white-outs. It was one of the worst winters we’d had in awhile. The school didn’t close often, but my professors would follow whatever the local elementary/middle schools were doing. So if they were closed, there was no class. My sister and I spent a lot of time sitting around the house that winter, since her high school would be closed too. We’d hang out in the kitchen eating chicken noodle soup, listening to Nsync, and baking cookies. We baked SO many cookies.
We’d completely destroy the kitchen, and then send our mom pictures to her work e-mail so she’d see what she was missing. There would be sugar and flour everywhere, the guinea pigs would be running all over the kitchen table, Miss Pamela (our adorable beagle and living floor cleaner) would be pacing the kitchen waiting for things to drop on the floor.
One night it started to snow really hard. It was 10:00 and my dad said he would need to clear the snow at least once before bed so that it wasn’t too high in the morning. My sister and I piled on all our winter gear and ran outside after him screaming and laughing like children, one in college and the other in high school, Pamela right behind us, acting like a puppy. Only a few minutes of being outside and we were covered in huge snowflakes.
Our dad started to blow the snow into mountains, and we climbed them and tapped on the kitchen window glass to wave to our mom inside. She rolled her eyes and laughed while sitting at the kitchen table. We went and grabbed a yard stick to measure how deep the snow was, taking pictures and acting like Top Models, exactly how Tyra would tell us to be.
Pamela dove into the snow and chased the falling flakes. My dad yelled over the sound of the snow blower for us to stop kicking the snow back onto the drive way. The neighbor came out to see what all the noise was about.
One thing that’s so great about being older, is you can run around in the snow in the middle of the night and act like you’re on Top Model and your parents just accept the fact that they’ve just lost control at this point. Back when Top Model was our favorite show, when nothing mattered except snow days and baking cookies and eating chicken noodle soup and Nsync. There’s something magical about a snow day, it’s like nature is telling you that you have this day where you can do anything.
I mean, except drive, I guess you probably shouldn’t drive. Unless you have to, cause I mean being an adult means working usually even when it’s snowing. Ugh, adulting sucks. Let’s just bake cookies instead.