Snow and Soap Operas

 

 

We have had some frigid weeks, colder than I ever remember. The recent storm buried my car in snow, and eventually a five-foot snow pile lurked behind it. I had learned about “displacement” in science, and usually related it to “if I jumped into a small pool, the water level would rise.” In this instance, each time the snowplow came by, the snow from its big shovel displaced to create a mountain behind my car. Bully snowplows!

Many a time after other snowstorms, I had put on my snow boots and been able to traverse my walkway even if it wasn’t shoveled. It had been a fun challenge, pulling each leg up, out and forward as though walking through fluffy cotton candy. No such luck after this storm! Opening the front door, I tried to step out into the snow, but the cold was debilitating, freezing me in place like Elsa froze her sister in the movie “Frozen”. Hurriedly getting back inside, I vowed to stay housebound until the spring.

Trying to keep the house warm enough was the real test, and our old boiler chugged along continuously to provide a temperature high enough for the pipes not to freeze, but low enough that a second mortgage on the house wouldn’t be necessary to pay the bill. I bundled up in regular clothes, throwing on a bathrobe and slippers for added warmth. The lower household temperature, however, froze the butter I leave on the kitchen counter so it will be soft enough to smooth on my raisin toast. The mornings after the storm found me ripping my toast as I tried to butter each piece, huge lumps of unhealthy butter just sitting there without any chance of smoothing out. Alas, it was the final snowstorm humiliation!

Normally, I like snow when the temperature is reasonable. As a child, I loved to sled and make snowballs. Last month when shopping at Ocean State Job Lot, I found the ultimate, much needed, snow accessory; a box like plastic container with the shape of 6 snowballs inside. Apparently, the eye hand coordination of children these days is so poor that a tool is needed to make snowballs. They no longer have to maneuver their hands to form the balls, but just need to shove snow into the container, shut it, and perfect snowballs would be the result. One would have to assume that such ammunition would far surpass the handmade balls that might fall apart in mid-air were they not so cleverly created.

A gift I received for Christmas has managed to maintain my sanity while housebound. Where I would normally sit and watch television while sipping on tea that gradually cools, (a real problem for me, who only likes tea at a certain temperature,) Hubby bought me a device that keeps the tea at whatever temperature I want. Really! So it was, with contentment, that I braved the cold, bundled up in a velour blanket on a Lazy Boy, sipping my hot cup of tea and watching the real life soap operas. No, not the Housewives of Atlanta or Sister Wives, but the news channels that continue to entertain me with the twists and turns in politics.

 

I Drive Like a Horse in Central Park

This winter weather is not letting up!! Temperature this morning was 12 degrees. Snow is still piled waist high everywhere, blocking views and sidewalks. The wind was still blowing, building snow piles in unexpected places. Cold, cold, cold. It is under these conditions that I drive to work.

Sitting in the car, sheltered from the cold and wind, I drive to work down the main street. Therein lies my problem. All along the street are bus stops. Because the snow precludes standing on the actual bus stop on the sidewalk, the bus travelers have to stand on the side of the road getting sideswiped by cars.

The first person I run across is obviously just leaving her job from McDonalds. She looks very tired and she probably worked the overnight shift. She is carrying a cup of coffee in her gloved hand. In the frigid weather, she also wears a hat and scarf, and big boots for the snow, but she must be cold none-the-less. My heart goes out to her. My instinct is to stop and offer her a ride, but I’ve driven by with the traffic and she becomes a distant memory in my rear view mirror.

The second person is a young adult, wearing only a hoodie pulled up over his head. His hands are stuffed in his pocket, and he looks verrrrrry cold. He looks so miserable, I want to just pick him up and hug him warm.

The third person I see is an older gentleman, body hunched over to minimize the cold. He wears a hat with ear muffs, scarf around the neck, heavy gloves and an old workman’s coat. He looks very uncomfortable. “Please, step into my warm car”, I want to say to him, but I don’t. Passing these first few people, I picture myself stopping and picking them all up, stuffing my car like a clown car in a circus. Alas, I do not do so.

What I do is to begin to drive like I have blinders on. I drive in the left hand lane and look straight ahead, not paying attention to the side of the road. I do not see the bus travelers who break my heart as I am driving. I drive like a carriage horse in Central Park, blinders on, concentrating on straight ahead, not getting distracted by view in the periphery.

However, I do not feel comfortable driving with blinders on…

They TOLD Me Not To Do It…

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not one to generally break the rules. However, it snowed AGAIN last night!! (UGH!!!) About 10 inches!!! And I had a meeting to get to! Out the front door I slogged to my snow covered car. I cleaned off the windshield in order to see out of it, and rolled down the windows to clear off the snow on them. (Sure, the snow fell into the car, but at least the windows were clear.) Off I went to my meeting. There I was, putzing along on the main street, congratulating myself on getting the car ready so fast, (because being late to a meeting is a serious offense.) Singing along to the radio with gusto, (LITE 105), I looked around at all of the other cars so carefully brushed off. SUCKERS! I’ll bet I did MY car in 1/10 of the time it took them to do theirs!

As I so carefully pulled into the snow covered parking spot and stepped on the brakes, a loud sound was heard overhead. Kind of like an avalanche sound. Loud, echoing, freaky. All of the snow that had been on TOP of my car, warmed by the heat inside, now slid freely down onto the windshield, completing engulfing me in a white out. It scared me for a moment when I thought that this could have easily happened stopping at a red light. But I was gleefully overwhelmed by the fact that I had made it to the meeting on time!! Yay!!!! Except for the fact that when I went into the meeting to join the others and there WERE no others…the meeting had been cancelled due to snow! AGAIN!!!!

A Fluffy, Cold Piece of Cotton

I had a lovely school vacation adventure by taking 20 kiddos who are blind to New Hampshire. What a lot of work, you say???? The work doesn’t compare to the joy that fills my heart as I watch these young children socialize and help each other, several of whom were away from home for the first time, many of whom had never stayed in a hotel, and several of whom had never swum in an indoor swimming pool, (or swim anywhere at all for that fact.) I want to share some heartwarming moments to possibly warm your own hearts as well during this cold, cold winter.

* A six year old Cambodian girl who had never been away from home before and whose mom had not packed properly for her, was wearing a donated bathing suit so large it had to be tied onto her so as to cover the “important parts”. As she held onto the railing of the pool and took that first step into the water, her serious face started to smile. On the second step, the smile grew larger, and on the third step, even larger still. By the time she was in the pool, she had a grin from ear to ear, and was giggling excitedly. She bounced up and down in the water, hearing it splash all around her, laughing louder still! She giggled throughout her first swim, and that made my heart giggle.

* A fourteen year old girl took the initiative to help a seven year old girl, leading her to the activities, bathroom, dining table and so forth, with both of them using their white canes. In school, this teen is often seen as “helpless” or to be pitied. As she conscientiously stuck by the side of the younger girl, choosing to do the activities the younger girl wanted to do instead of more selfishly choosing teen activities, her demonstration of compassion and leadership made her a great role model, not to be pitied but to be admired. Her pride made my heart proud.

* Three young girls, bundled up and huddled together in a single, large Superman sled, coast down the snowy hill, twisting and twirling, their laughter piercing the air with screeches similar to those made when going on a roller coaster. Their request for “more, more, more” despite the frigid temperatures belies their joy in sledding, something none of them had done before. Their excitement filled my heart with excitement.

* A young boy, used to having his food cut up by his mom, practiced using a knife on his chicken parmesan, sawing the knife back and forth to release each savory piece, then stabbing it with a fork and bringing it to his mouth with a look of satisfaction. The young boy next to him, who is used to eating EVERYTHING with his fingers, (he’s BLIND, you know….he can’t possibly use utensils are his parent’s thoughts,) was taught to use a piece of bread to coax his food onto a fork by the teen sitting next to him. At first, much of the food didn’t reach his mouth, but he kept trying, urged on by his seat mate. By the end of the meal, he had independently filled his tummy, filling my own heart with his feeling of success.

* All of the kiddos were up on the dance floor, bopping and bouncing to songs such as YMCA, The Chicken Dance, Cotton-Eyed Joe, the Hokey Pokey, the Macarena, The Hustle, Stomp and the Cha Cha Slide. Line dances are perfect for them, and they teach each other the steps. No one is left out and everyone has great fun, wildly swinging their arms, kicking their legs, and sashaying their hair. Watching this group of kids dance, almost in unison, with smiles and giggles and laughter, fills my heart with beautiful music.

And one last little moment: it had started to snow, big, fat flakes of snow, some an inch around and as fluffy as cotton balls. One child started the movement by looking up into the sky with his arms wide and his mouth open, catching the flakes on his tongue. With excitement, the other children follow, arms out, mouths open, allowing the fluffy pieces to rest on their tongues and drop down onto their faces. They were amazed!! So THAT was what a snowflake looked like! At home, they usually rush through the snow, heads down, but on this date they were welcoming the experience. They didn’t need to see the snow to enjoy it, they could feel its beauty and how the warmth of their bodies melted the fragile snowflakes into little piles of water. How amazing! How joyful! What an eye opening experience!

I’ll Stay Inside Til Spring

Looked out the window today and all I saw was snow. Literally, the entire window was covered with snow, which reached up to the roof. Due to the high winds that blew the light and fluffy stuff across the small lake on which we live, our house window resembled the inside of a freezer. This actually kept the outside of our house “warm” at 32 degrees, compared the the howling wind outside at negative 15 degrees!

The saving grace is that the snow outside the front door is much lower at about 4 feet. Because one of my sons has consistently shoveled the walkway throughout these snowstorms, only about a foot of fresh snow covered the walkway. That’s the type of snow I hop through like a bunny. Jump, jump, jump with the longest strides I can muster, over to my car. Ready to go for the day! BRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!

Wish I was Punxsutawney Phil who could burrow down into my warm home, emerging in the spring!

The Trick is to Follow the Bus

I was late for work this morning. It is difficult to get to work on time with 3 1/2 feet of snow on the ground. Fortunately, my son, Steven, shoveled our driveway. Unfortunately, after he did so, the snow plow came down our small, side street again, piling another two feet of snow behind my car. He came back and shoveled away the same snow from an hour ago. Getting the car out of the driveway necessitated the technique of “rocking”…stepping on the gas all the way in “drive” and the car rocks forward three inches…quickly stepping on the gas as the car rocks backward four inches…repeat, repeat, repeat until the car is free from the driveway and in the middle of the snow covered road, (and my fresh, hot cup of tea has sloshed out of the cup, all over the floor mat in my car.)

I inched down the middle of our street, slip sliding away here and there, but generally staying in the street. Fortunately, no car came in the opposite direction as I am sure we would have both ended up in the snowbanks on the side of the road. At the end of our street, I had to practice another snow driving trick…speeding up way before a hill in order to have the speed and the traction to get to the top of the hill without sliding down backwards. This can only be done by an experienced snowy hill driver because one must also be able to stop at the apex of the hill in order to look for traffic coming in both directions.

Once safely at the top of the hill, I turned and joined the cars on the main street, usually a street plowed well enough to get to work without further delays. On this very windy day, however, the main street was littered with snow drifts and snow piles where they are generally least expected…in the middle of the road! I unsafely drove for a mile or two, dangerously plowing through the snow and frantically turning my wheel against a skid in order to set the car right on the street again. Then I unexpectedly learned “the trick”…I started to follow a bus! Most drivers hate to follow buses because they make a lot of stops, but in the frigid weather and with 6 feet of plowed snow covering the sidewalks, not a lot of people were waiting at the bus stops and the bus kept driving through. Quietly, lurking in the rear shadow of the bus, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that IT plowed through the snow, making a safe path for me. Traveling along behind the bus, I giggled at myself and my discovery! And because where I work is on a bus line, I was able to turn off into my agency’s parking lot without further safety concerns.

I will just have to wait for a bus going in the other direction so I can find my way home safely…

As Peaceful as Falling Snow

My husband and I have the tradition of going to our little cabin in NH at least once a month.  We have had a real challenge raising Marie and Steven lately, so this weekend was especially timely.  Right now I am sitting in a comfy chair, feet up, air warm around me, and a cup of hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows sitting on the table next to me, adding steam to the air.  I am smiling thinking of how this cabin has served us well over the years.

When Steven came to live with us, his obsessive compulsive disorder, extreme hyperactivity and severe sensory integration difficulties were not conducive to family vacations in hotels and such. My father, who adored Steven and saw many of my brother’s mental health traits in him, generously purchased this little vacation home.  He himself had always wanted a house in New Hampshire, and he was proud to be able to give me something that would last a lifetime.  The cabin is full of his carvings, including a sign that says “RELAX!!!”  It might be a reminder to actually relax, except on the sign is a carved eagle with a beak so sharp and long and eyes so wildly life like that it kind of scares me instead.  Fortunately, I have learned to look on this sign with love, a reminder of my dad and his “quirky ways”.

On the wall of the cabin are pictures of the kiddos through the years; Francis water skiing, Dinora standing gloriously in front of Mount Washington, Steven holding up his bucket y.of frogs, one frog in his hand thrust towards the camera looking huge next to his tiny body, Andy wildly waving a sparkler on the Fourth of July and Marie holding up a huge fish she caught ice fishing, almost too heavy for her to hold.  There are other pictures of all of us together, or the kiddos playing in the sand at the beach, cuddling on the deck of the cabin, or hiking in the woods.  The pictures are a nice reminder that we have been parents for a long time, and our children have led full and happy lives with us.

While staying in the cabin is reminiscent, it also serves as a retreat for me and my husband.  It is very quiet here.  No telephone reception. No multitude of cable tv channels.  No internet.  No neighbors. No housework.   No stress.

The weekend is a wonderful interlude to our busy lives, an interlude where we are free to nap all day, laugh at silly things, eat  wonderful concoctions Raymond dreams up, (last night it was shrimp rolled in bacon and topped with cheese,) and spend lots of time loving each other.  While we are loving when at home, we go into overdrive in the secluded cabin. No neighbors can hear our screeching laughs.   No children can walk in on our sexual escapades, and no one cares if I walk around bra-less. We are “free and easy”, and the stress just melts away…

Today, the day we will be packing up to go home, I am sitting here writing this, content watching the snow slowly falling outside; soft, fluffy, amazingly beautiful snow!  Peace surrounds me now.  I am well rested and have laughed and loved my stress away, and I am ready to go home to face whatever challenges may come my way.  Bring it on!

Wherefore Art Thou Spring?

My birthday usually ushers in the springtime. This year, it ushered in yet another snow storm. The picture above is what our little cabin in New Hampshire looked like when we arrived for a weekend visit Saturday, (MARCH 22!) There was so much snow that we spent almost 2 hours shoveling to get into the house. My adventuresome self wanted to just dig a tunnel through the snow, and crawl out the other side, but hubby thought it might be difficult to drag the suitcases through. Besides, he reasoned, it is good EXERCISE to shovel. (Yeah, right, like I’d go along with him on that one…)
Not since years ago when “I was a wee lass who had to crawl through four feet of snow for a mile in order to get to school” have I seen this much snow. It seems as though Global Warming passed us by this winter. I worry about the wild animals; with the snow so deep, how can they walk anywhere, let alone find something to eat? I can only hope that they have all joined their bear colleagues and started the new tradition of hibernating.
Of course, the weather will soon warm and the snow will melt, (hopefully not flooding the place.) Until then, I will reluctantly wait, looking like this:

*************

To read more about my interesting, amazing childhood, please read my book. Here is a link:

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-apple-tree/id538572206?mt=11

The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane

Oh NO! More SNOW!

Another snowstorm!!!! I completely understand why older people move to southern states when they retire. Winters are COLD!  My fingers get chilled just thinking about it, and the snow keeps piling up!

I do not enjoy the winters as I used to.  I remember pre-children when my husband and I would go skiing.  One day it was 10 degrees below zero. We were all excited it was so cold because that meant that the ski slopes would not be as crowded and we would not have to wait in line for the chairlift.  We bundled up with layer upon layer of warm clothing with not an inch of skin showing lest if freeze and fall off. We skied all day.  At one point, we stopped at the top of the mountain and viewed the surrounding area.  With the sun blazing down on the shiny snow, we saw snowcapped mountains in the distance, little villages, frozen lakes and the ant specks that were cars, and I was overcome with awe for nature.  It’s a good thing this memory is frozen in my mind because these days, you’d never get me on top of a cold, frigid mountain again!

Several years ago, after several major snowstorms, there was an 8 foot pile of snow made by the snowplow. The kids managed to shape it for sledding, and they had great fun sliding down.  At one point, Steven climbed to the top of the pile and all of a sudden he disappeared!  He had fallen deep inside the snow pile! It was like he was buried in an avalanche! Another heart stopping moment for me.  Fortunately, we managed to pull the snow from around the top of the pile until we could pull him out.  He was laughing because it was such an adventure, and he begged to do it again.

Several years ago, my husband received an old snowmobile as a “gift” from a friend.  One day, he was riding it in our large backyard with my son Steven sitting in the front of him.  Raymond decided to Steven drive.  Excitedly, Steven turned the handlebars to give it gas.  The snowmobile took off in a lurch and my husband was thrown from the back of it in an amazing double somersault. (A “10” if he were rated in the Olympics for gymnastics off the back of a snowmobile.)  Steven and the snowmobile zoomed on, headed right for the shed in the backyard.  His life flashed before my eyes and I thought “This is what it feels like to see your child die.”   My heart was in my stomach and I felt like I wanted to vomit and scream at the same time. Fortunately, unbeknownst to me, if you let up on the handlebars, the machine stops. This is exactly what Steven did. Then he turned around and noticed that his father was missing! And he had stopped within a foot of the shed. He did not realize how serious it was, and laughed at my husband, still feet up in the snow. It took a while for my heart to start beating again, and I vowed Steven would never again be allowed to drive a snowmobile.  So, my husband did the only smart thing a father could do…he sold that snowmobile and he bought 2 news ones so we could go snowmobiling as a family!  Ugh! We trekked up to New Hampshire to go for a nice, winter vacation. Because Steven could not drive, and because at this time Angel was also living with us, I was forced to go along as the second driver.  If you have not ridden on a snowmobile, the closest description is as if you are riding motorcycle on skis.  In the ice.  And the cold. And did I mention the ice? Because I had never even ridden a motorcycle, I was very nervous. I started the machine, jerking it as Steven had done when he tried to drive it. Fortunately, Angel had his arms firmly wound around me and he didn’t fall off.  I was so scared and it was so awkward to drive that I could only creep along at 5-10 miles per hour, much to my husband’s dismay. (Dismay is putting it mildly.) To make matters worse, my husband did not choose the nice, empty, safe fields to ride in.  NOOOOOO!  He chose the skinny, trees whipping by your head, narrow snowmobile paths with TRAFFIC COMING IN THE OTHER DIRECTION!  That one day of snowmobiling was the scariest of my life.  Once we began on the trail, there was no turning back!  My hands were shaking, my body was sweating even though it was freezing out, and my imagination had my head being whipped off by a tree branch.  I did enjoy the nice, friendly wave the snowmobilers in the opposite direction were giving us, and each time we passed them, my hand went up to wave back.  (I later learned that the opposing snowmobilers put up the number of fingers for the number in their party.  3 fingers for 3 people, and so forth.  I realized that each time I waved, I was telling them that we had 5 people in our party.  Oh, well, I won’t do that again because I won’t do THAT again…go snowmobiling.  Fortunately, Angel did not enjoy it either, so he and I spent our time shopping at the factory outlets while Raymond and Steven went out on the trails.

At home, there is a pond in our backyard.  Marie loves playing outside in the cold, going ice fishing, building snowmen, and, most of all, playing hockey.  She dresses warmly from head to toe…black snow pants, black jacket, a hat which covers most of her face, several pairs of gloves topped with hockey gloves, and boys hockey skates.  She takes her hockey stick and skates around the lake to the various hockey games trying to get an invitation to play.  From looking at her all bundled up, you cannot tell if she is a girl or a boy.  She is not verbal, so they cannot tell from her voice.  (She points to her ears for them to know she is deaf.)  She would normally use sign language but with hockey gloves this is next to impossible.  They always let her in because she is a good player.  If one group stops playing, she will skate around and find another group.  She reminds me of a female Batman for hockey…slinking into games, her identity unknown…showing up out of the blue when a team needs a player!

Winter is alive and well with my kiddos, who enjoy it as I did when I was a child.  They love the snow and all the activities, but now thatI am older I get chilled easily…(picture granny in the rocking chair with a blanket around her.)  I sit by the picture window, near the fireplace, drinking hot chocolate with mountains of marshmallow and I watch them having fun outside.  As parents, we all know that watching our children be happy and have fun is even more fun than doing it ourselves. I am a happy mommy.  Let it snow!

^^^^

Link to my book
https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-apple-tree/id538572206?mt=11

The Apple Tree: Raising 5 Kids With Disabilities and Remaining Sane

Link to the Readers Digest review of my book:  http://www.rd.com/recommends/what-to-read-after-a-hurricane/

Global Warming?

I completely understand why older people move to southern states when they retire. Winters are COLD!  My fingers get chilled just thinking about it.

I do not enjoy the winters as I used to.  I remember pre-children when my husband and I would go skiing.  One day it was 10 degrees below zero. We were all excited it was so cold because that meant that the ski slopes would not be as crowded and we would not have to wait in line for the chairlift.  We bundled up with layer upon layer of warm clothing and we skied all day.  At one point, we stopped at the top of the mountain and we could see all around the surrounding area.  With the sun blazing down on the shiny snow, we saw snowcapped mountains in the distance, little villages, frozen lakes and the ant specks that were cars, and I was overcome with awe for God and nature.  It’s a good thing this memory is still crisp in my mind because these days, you’d never get me on top of a cold, frigid mountain again!

The children, of course, have always loved winter.  My oldest son, Francis, still skies with his father from time to time, plus he skies with friends in the mountains of California.  Although he is legally blind, he is a ” black diamond slope” skier.  The only problem with that is he needs a “black diamond slope” guide!  My heart was always in my throat when he skied because I was petrified he’d hit a tree.  (This was during the time when Sonny Bono and one the Kennedy boys died after hitting a tree when skiing.)  While away at college in England, he regularly skied in the French Alps.  Knowing how frightened I am, he sent a picture of him at the top of the mountain.  “You’d love this, mom” he wrote, “No trees.”  I pictured him happily skiing down the bare mountain not a tree in sight to run into.  It wasn’t until much later that someone broke my happy bubble by informing me that he could be buried by an AVALANCHE!  Boy, this being a mom is tough!

My husband received an old snowmobile as a “gift” from a friend.  One day, he was riding it in our large backyard with my son Steven sitting in the front of him and he decided to let him drive.  Excitedly, Steven turned the handlebars to give it gas.  The snowmobile took off in a lurch and my husband was thrown from the back of it in an amazing double somersault.  Steven and the snowmobile were headed right for the shed.  His life flashed before my eyes and I thought “This is what it feels like to see your child die.”   Fortunately, unbeknownst to me, if you let up on the handlebars, the machine stops, and this is exactly what Steven did.  He turned around and noticed his father was missing and he let go of the handlebars.  He stopped within a foot of the shed. It took a while for my heart to start beating again. My husband did the only smart thing a father could do…he sold that snowmobile and he bought 2 news ones so we could go snowmobiling as a family!  I had to go along as a driver in order for the whole family to participate. If you have not ridden a snowmobile, I can only describe it as riding a motorcycle on skis.  I had never ridden a motorcycle and I was very nervous. I would creep along at 5-10 miles per hour, much to my husband’s dismay.  To make matters worse, my husband did not choose the nice, empty, safe fields to ride in.  NOOOOOO!  He chose the skinny, trees whipping by your head, narrow snowmobile paths with TRAFFIC COMING IN THE OTHER DIRECTION!  That one day of snowmobiling was the scariest in my life.  There was no turning back and I had to drive.  My hands were shaking, my body was sweating even though it was freezing out, and my imagination had my head being whipped off by a tree branch.  That was the first and last time for me!  My son Angel was riding with me, and he and I decided we liked to go shopping much more than snowmobiling and everyone was happier with this decision.

About 16 years ago, when it became obvious that Steven had some type of Autism and could not tolerate vacations in hotels, we bought a little house in New Hampshire for vacations.  The children always loved playing outside in the snow.  At the end of our driveway was an 8 foot tall pile of snow made by the snowplow which the kids had fun sliding down.  At one point, Steven climbed to the top of the pile and all of a sudden he disappeared!  He had fallen deep into the snow pile! Another heart stopping moment for me.  Fortunately, we managed to pull the snow from around the top of the pile until he could climb out.  He was laughing because it was so much fun and he wanted to do it again.

At home, we live on a lake.  My 13 year old daughter who is deaf loves playing outside in the cold.  She loves to go ice fishing, building snowmen, and, most of all, playing hockey.  She dresses warmly from head to toe…black snow pants, black jacket, a hat which covers most of her face, several pairs of gloves topped with hockey gloves, and boys hockey skates.  She takes her hockey stick and skates around the lake to the various hockey games trying to get an invitation to play.  From looking at her all bundled up, you cannot tell if she is a girl or a boy.  She is not verbal, so they cannot tell from her voice.  (She points to her ears for them to know she is deaf.)  She would normally use sign language but with hockey gloves this is next to impossible.  She is a good player and that is all that matters, and she invariably plays for hours. If one group stops playing, she will skate around and find another group.  She reminds me of a female Batman for hockey…slinking into games, her identity unknown…showing up out of the blue when a team needs a player!

Winter is alive and well with my kiddos, who enjoy it as I did when I was a child, but now I am old and get chilled easily..  If they want me, I’ll be sitting by the fireplace drinking hot chocolate and watching tv, often a show with a discussion about global warming.