The party that wasn’t

Winter has officially come to my street. It’s covered with deep, heavy snow---officially 12.2 inches fell in 48 hours. All the schools are closed and even the rabbits that usually roam my yard are staying home. I shoveled three times yesterday and more has fallen since which means I’ll have to shovel again today. My driveway service has been here. Twice. And the sidewalk along the street was done by a neighbor and his snow blower, but I have to clear the walkway from my front door to my driveway, again---in case I need to call an ambulance or the Reader’s Digest Clearing House decides to deliver one of their giant checks. I also have to shovel three feet along the front of the garage that the driveway service won’t touch, no doubt because it wouldn’t take much to slide right into the door and a costly repair. Last but not least I need to keep a path to my bird feeders open and to my dog’s yard but I won’t be totally dug out until the county truck clears the street and since I live on a cul-de-sac that won’t happen until later today or over night. When we get plowed out, I’ll know the entire city is open for business and I will have lost a pound or two from all the exercise. Yay!

Levi was supposed to go to the Canine Foo-Foo Doggie Beauty Parlor today but I rescheduled for tomorrow, smack dab in the middle of the time I was supposed to be at the senior hall Christmas party. Not to worry, I lost interest in going to that party when I found out that the location where it’s going to be held will require us to take a shuttle bus from a parking lot to a church’s banquet hall. The shuttle bus holds 25 and 225 signed up to go the party. I did the math and can’t imagine standing in a line waiting for the bus when the temperature will be in the low 20s. Okay, I admit that I’m a pansy and if you’re wondering what’s the difference between standing in a line and being outside shoveling snow, I’ll tell you. It’s a matter of clothing. When I shovel, I’m wearing two layers of clothing plus gaiters, boots with ice fishing cleats on the bottom, ski gloves, a hat, a hooded jacket and a scarf tied around my face so only my eyes are showing. Still, when did pansy-itis set in? When I was a kid I could go sledding, ice fishing and skating by the hours. When I was in my twenties I hung around the ski slopes. Next came a decade of snowmobiling followed by seventeen years when I plowed snow and I spent more than my fair share of cold winter nights standing in the snow holding a flashlight while one of the guys laid on the ground repairing a broken hydraulic hose. Being bone cold is something I never want to do again.

The Christmas party is always the same, so I don’t feel badly about missing it. A choir of people in their 80s sings first and if I was one of them I’d be embarrassed. Next comes a choir of high school kids and unlike the first one, to get in that choir the kids have to audition and they are excellent---the best 20-something singers out of a school of a 1,200 students. But I’m not a glutton for Christmas songs so by mid-December I’ve had my fill. Then dinner will be served, probably turkey that may or may not be cold and last but not least they’ll draw for the door prizes which takes forever because they have so many---either cookie tins or poinsettias. But the biggest reason I don’t mind missing the party is I hate the idea of being separated from my car. What if I was in the bathroom when the last shuttle leaves? I don’t live near public transportation, the last time I saw a taxi cab was in 1975 and I don’t have an Uber app. The senior hall shuttle bus waits for no one. That’s the rule.

Cold weather and being outdoors always reminds me of the hot cocoa with marshmallows of my youth. My mom made it several ways but my favorite was made with whole chocolate milk with a touch of vanilla. I went to a baby shower last winter where they made it the same way, in a large coffee pot to keep it warm and we had our choice of liquors and spices to add to our hot chocolate. If they had that combination at the ski lodges of my youth, I probably wouldn’t have ever made it out to the slopes. I make cocoa quite often on cold, lonely winter nights but instead of it giving me pleasure like comfort foods are supposed to do it makes me feel guilty for consuming the calories so close to bedtime. Everything that goes in my mouth makes me feel guilty except for the spinach and pineapple protein shakes I make for breakfast. Oh, well, I’ve got seventeen days before my goals, diet and activities will change with the new year and the grumbling about the changes will begin. ©