It’s been a rough week. My husband had surgery on Monday and returned home on Wednesday. The stress and worry about him was intense but I also had major deadlines at work, two kids and all their needs, visits to the hospital, prioritizing my family, and all the other little details of life. On Thursday a significant storm hit Maine. I was truly excited for the snow but not excited about the time it would take to shovel. I was in that fragile place of being so busy that if something else fell on my plate, I wasn’t going to get it all done… 6 inches of snow fell on my plate.
During the storm I had to get the car out of the driveway to deliver Fed Ex packages to work. I started shoveling by hand and then saw the snowbank at the end of the driveway. I didn’t want to get the damn snowblower out but my back was hurting and I had so much to do so I thought I might save some time if I could figure it out. I need to say, I’m a pretty tough cookie. I normally do most things that men typically do, but the snow blower is one machine I am intimidated by and avoid using. I’d much rather shovel. I was able to get it out of the garage and even managed to start the thing, and got it moving. Luckily I didn’t break any windows as I accidentally shot snow and rocks at our house. After less than one minute of snow blowing, I ran out of gas. At this point I should have just walked to Fed Ex pulling the packages on a sled.
I think I broke it. I managed to fill the tank and get it started again but then the auger (I think that is what it is called) wouldn’t turn. F&$#ing snow blower! I tried pushing the 300 pound dead machine blocking the car. Snow blowers don’t roll well when they’re not running. In fact trying to get it out of the driveway was sort of like moving a boulder of the same size. It was then that I lost it. I cried and swore a lot. Somehow I was able to drag it back to the garage. I grabbed the shovel and began trying to shovel the end of the driveway when a sweet, sweet friend who happened to be pulling her one year-old in a sled cheerfully said hello and asked how I was doing. I couldn’t hide my frustration and tears. After the best big hug I’ve ever received she insisted I take her car.
Have I told you lately how much I love my neighbors? I really, really do. I wouldn’t want to raise my kids with anyone else surrounding me.
Anyway, what’s the point of sharing this story you may ask? I still got outside each day this week. In fact, I haven’t missed one day.
Here’s the run down:
* Tuesday I thought I really wasn’t going to make it out but had a lovely evening of drinking wine from a coffee mug with friends… two of the many wonderful friends who live within a stone’s throw from our house.
* Wednesday I walked to get drugs. Pain meds that is. I got to try out my new nifty hat with really bright lights in the brim. I startled a few dog walkers.
* Thursday, after crying and swearing at the snow blower (technically outdoor time) I treated myself to a cross-country ski (it was our first deep-enough snow this year) in the woods behind the cemetery near our home. I met a local legend and followed him for awhile. I’m sure I’ll ski with him again. He suggested I try something but I’m not going to tell you what he suggested—not until I try it anyway. Many of you will think I really am crazy when I try it.
* Yesterday, Friday, in between ice falls and intense rainstorms there were about 60 minutes of glorious sunshine. I was able to go out then. It’s hard to believe that crazy weather surrounded these clear skies. Locals, know I’m telling the truth.
I really think my outdoor time helped me deal with the stress of the week. There are a lot of other benefits I’m feeling but most important is that my personal connection to the outdoors strengthens me and gives me peace.
My husband is doing really well. Thanks for all the well wishes.