the purple chai
now :: then :: me :: them

a fifty-something under-tall half-deaf school librarian in the jersey suburbs with two grown kids and time on her hands

Libraries will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no libraries.

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The Blizzard of Ought-Three


9:22 am

We have had about two feet of snow, which is a lot for us here all at one time. Not that I haven't seen it before in my life, but it doesn't happen more than once a decade, if that.

When I was a kid, and my father would go out to shovel snow, my mother always took a picture. It always pissed him off. For one thing, he didn't like having his picture taken, and for another, there's something pretty annoying about being out in the cold working your tail off while someone warm and safe and dry sticks her head out the window just to take your picture. I think she did this mostly to record the storm, and the best way to show the depth of the snow is to take a picture of someone standing in the middle of it. And so, I present, Hubs Shoveling the Snow:

He started shoveling at 3 pm, when it was still snowing. He finished about 7:30, when it was still snowing, but light. Or as he put it,"I'm only half done, if that." Because I am married to a martyr.

Yes folks, it's true. My husband does not whine like a baby when he's sick, he's not helpless in the kitchen, he doesn't pretend not to knowwhere anything is. He would prefer to go off in a corner and hide until his cold gets better, to cook for himself, and to pretend to know where everything is, rather than ask. If he asks, then he'll know, and he can't look like he's suffering -- in silence -- for some reason or another.

No one is allowed to help him shovel, but okay, there are reasons for that. He came in once during the four and a half hours to use the bathroom (but not to get warm or dry, oh no!) and I asked if I could make him a cup of coffee or something. No. Can I help? No. Can I turn on the porch light for you? No. The upshot is, I guess, that I just look out the window every twenty minutes or so to make sure he's not dead yet.

One of his lovelier qualities is that he doesn't buy into any macho crap about man's work, or women's work, or anything. He doesn't need to appear tough. This is a good thing. On the other hand, this martyr thing is sometimes hard to take. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.

Whatever. Maybe we won't have too much more snow. Although he says he'll "finish" shoveling when he gets home from work today. (This is all hand-shoveled, by the way, despite the fact that it looks like it was snow-blown. No machines for Hubs!) I'm not even allowed to hire a kid to shovel, because then it wouldn't be done right. Okay, then.

I'm watching

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