"So You Say It's Your Birthday..."

So today's my birthday, an event that has minimizing significance as we go along. Age of course is one issue. And the day of my birth being so close to Christmas occasionally makes it a bitter sweet celebration. Either I feel hurt that I'm not getting the appropriate amount of attention....or I feel guilty because all the people around me feel bad 'cause they don't give it the appropriate amount of attention.

I do have a pretty long standing tradition of going OUT to eat on my birthday.  That pretty much satiates my birthday ego. Now just hold on to all this for a minute.

Well, we get up this morning to discover we have over 30 inches of measured snow on the ground.  We have snowdrifts as high as 5 feet.  The whole Metropolitan Area is shut down, and that includes any place I'd like to go eat in honor of the day of my birth.

A "shoveling the snow off the driveway" job typically occupies about a half hour following  a snow storm. Well this one, with two of us in motion? It takes up the better part of three hours.  So somewhere in this time period Peggy says:

"I'll bet you are going to go right to your room and BLOG about what you HAVE to do on your Birthday."

"Yeah, but this time its going to be a case of what I GET to do on my birthday."

Take away the wind? (It is gone.) Take away below zero temperatures? ( The mercury reads in the upper 20's) And some really miraculous things take place. All the sounds you learn to ignore are actually gone.

PEGGY HAS MY BIRTHDAY DINNER READY...I'LL GET BACK TO YOU.

Not bad!

Let me describe for you what happens to my senses out shoveling. 

Hearing?: What's most noticable is what I don't hear.  I don't hear traffic. I don't hear BullyDozers. I don't hear trash trucks. (this is trash day.) I don't hear the mailperson. (The Postal service balks on it's motto.) I don't hear school busses.  I don't hear planes overhead. I don't hear distant sirens.  What do I hear?  I hear the clear "Whoosh" of snow shovels slicing away layers of white blanket.  I hear gentle voices in quiet conversation up to two blocks away.

Sight?: I see rolling,  waving blankets of soft white. I see people I've never seen before out shoveling, sledding, snow shoeing, walking dogs. ( A Bishon Frise that could barely keep it's head above the snow.) I look up and down the street and see myself mirrored by men and women shoveling in unison.  I see one neighbor take time out to carve a snow seat for his two year old son.  What I don't see?  I don't see any stress. I don't see any angst.

Taste?: A taste of freshness along with the crisp bacon I've just ingested.

Touch?: There is the soft cushy warmth of my parka and gloves. There is the tingling of loose snowflakes flying off my shovel and hitting my face.

I have a former student, Psalm is her name, who once a year turns off all her electricity for a week to get a clear sense of the peaceful simplicity of the world around her. Today I get it. 

This is a birthday I'll remember and feel good about. I'm throwing in some more pictures so you can vicariously feel good about it too. Happy Birthday to us One and All.

I'll get back to being my cynical self (pass the turkey scrooge) when all this snow turns to slop. Nothin's forever, is it?