Aloha, Nor'easter

Well, the one and, with any luck, the  only snowstorm of this winter has left the building, at least in my little corner of New York.  After several pokings, proddings and eyeballings, it looks like we got about 10" of relatively light and fluffy snow, what I would call a skier's snow, not that skis have ever been on my feet.  Great for sledding, not so much for the making of snowpeople or for the throwing of snowballs at people, although both latter activities can be done with just a little extra work.  Trust me, I'm an expert.

The snowplows started doing their thing as soon as the snow had just about stopped falling.  They were through here before 5 AM, leaving a ridge 18-24" high and about the same in depth in front of my driveway.  I was out there shortly after they left, a solo act in the heave-ho of snow at that hour.  I took two breaks, one because my hands were cold (no, of course I didn't wear gloves) and the second because I'm an overweight 55 year old woman and needed to stop before a call to 911 would be required.  But, by 6:15 AM, I was done digging out my car to the road and digging a second path through the plow ridge into my side yard to that the fuel delivery guys wouldn't have to trudge through the snow to deliver heating oil.  People don't believe me, but I really am nice like that.  There's a bit more shoveling in my future, but the bulk of the work is done.

After several quick online searches, I've learned that for an hour of shoveling, the calories burned by a male weighing 150 lbs. is around 500.  Okay, I'm female and let's just say that 150 lbs. is my target weight for height and body type, shall we?  I'm going to go out on a limb and say that I burned at least 500 calories. 

All that work and all those subsequent muscle aches later and it's not 10,000 calories?  Bummer.  Well, at least I earned my coffee with cream and sugar this morning.

In my final moments of keyboarding before I go take my Advil® and drink my well-earned coffee, my parting words are said with love to the decision-makers at The Weather Channel -- I respect your ability to forecast the weather and present it for the masses, but your decision to name winter storms was not your most stellar.  It was an arbitrary choice and no other weather service is following in your snowy footsteps.  Even the media and public opinion don't seem to be swayed so much by this choice. Please leave the naming of storms to hurricane season.

I Love You, Phil

As I sipped my coffee with reverence in anticpation of Punxsutawney Phil's Groundhog Day prediction, they dragged out the critter that's a cousin to the ones turning my front yard hill into a maze of dens.  They put him through the pomp and cirumstance that happens every year at this time in that little town in Pennsylvania and got his prediction.  He usually sees his shadow in the minutes after sunrise, indicating six more LONG weeks of winter. 

But not this time!  The cute little ground hog didn't see his shadow this morning and has predicted that spring is just around the corner.  Woo-hoo!

Phil, for at least this year, I promise not to call you a stupid woodchuck.  You've done my winter-weary heart good.  You are my hero.

Unless you're wrong. 

This message brought to you by the Spring Fever Perpetuation Association.