Friday, February 5, 2010


The storm has been dubbed Snowmageddon, for threatening multiple feet and its windy, blizzardy nature. But no worries. Snowmageddon all you want! There's chicken stew already made, sitting in the fridge. The diabetes supplies are all stocked up, and I even fought my way through the grocery store yesterday for some and delicious Florida strawberries (but actually to pick up some washing machine soap). Matt's home, too -- yay!! He picked up some red wine just before the heavy snow started falling. The neighbors are already checking in for play dates & get togethers. Life is good.

The powers that be let us off at noon today, but there were so few kids in the class that it was an easy day. Maybe we'll even be off on Monday, my busy day, for a complete bonus.

In Maryland we don't get the February break that school systems in New England get, and it always seems like a looooooong stretch from winter break to spring. Hard to stay focused, short days making for short tempers, and it feels like the school year has gone on for 10 months already. As my friend Leah says, every February she says she's quitting. (I'm sure the students have the same sentiment!)

But this year mother nature has given us a reprieve. Break out the board games and pour the cocoa (or the wine). Thank you, snow. I really needed you.

A few lines from Billy Collins' "Shoveling Snow with Buddha"

But here we are, working our way down the driveway,
one shovelful at a time.
We toss the light powder into the clear air.
We feel the cold mist on our faces.
And with every heave we disappear
and become lost to each other
in these sudden clouds of our own making,
these fountain-bursts of snow.

This is so much better than a sermon in church,
I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
This is the true religion, the religion of snow,
and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
I say, but he is too busy to hear me.

He has thrown himself into shoveling snow
as if it were the purpose of existence,
as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway
you could back the car down easily
and drive off into the vanities of the world
with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio.

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