February 10, 2010

Three Hairy Fairies

I remember a time when snow was fun. Sledding. Catching flakes on your tongue. Making snow angels and snow balls and snowmen.

But when you're looking out your window at the second blizzard in a week, the third blizzard of the season ...

... when the snow is taller than your four year old and you haven't left your house in days ...

... when you've dug through nearly 80 inches of the white stuff in the space of about six weeks ...

Soooooo not fun.

It's shoveling and backaches and wet and salty on your hardwood floors. It's ice dams on the roof and water damage in the drywall. It's slogging through hip-deep cold to dig out the heat pump. It's cabin fever and kids gone wild.

But there's a kind of awesomeness to all this snowfall, too. Because it brings out the village. As in the "it takes a village" village. Which is, as I've just learned, about snow as much as it is about kids.

See, I dug out my heat pump because a friend on Facebook thought to post a note about it to save everyone from burning out their motors and dying of carbon monoxide poisoning.

Another friend posted a diagram on ice dams, and a third spent an hour on the phone talking me through my dams and my drywall and my homeowner's insurance. I'd never heard of the dam things (ha ha), and they are killing my little house.

And, in a tremendous act of kindness, three of my neighbors - my three hairy snow fairies - took pity on our vain attempts to shovel through the mad snowfall and dug out my driveway. Not once, not twice, but over and over until the snow finally stopped.

Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Still can't find the mailbox. But I can get my sick kid to the doctor. That matters.

One friend in the village had the kids in mind. She passed along a recipe for snow cream. Awesome stuff. Just like ice cream only easier. If you've got this much snow, might as well eat some of it. 'Cause eating snow? That's fun.

Snow Cream

1 big bowl of snow
1/2 to 1 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla
1 cup of milk (enough to make it mushy, not runny)

Stir & enjoy! My diva ate two bowls of the stuff, and even my sugar averse Aspie deemed it a hit.

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