You know the story of the white shit, right? It's that journal of the Brazilian guy who moves from São Paulo to Pennsylvania and thinks everything is wonderful and beautiful in the beginning of the fall and in the beginning of the winter, until the beautiful cotton-white snow turns into white shit by mid-winter!
Well it is my theory that everyone who lives here, Brazilian or American alike, goes through that process every year. In the beginning of the winter the snow is beautiful white pieces of cotton. From the middle to the end of the winter it turns into white shit.
Today was officially my day to stop thinking that snow looks like little pieces of cotton flying through the air and start calling it white shit.
I got up early to help hubby leave for work. We shoveled the snow off the driveway to make way for the car. The snow was beautiful and dry, and it came to our shovels easily and it left our shovels just as easily.
I thought to myself, "later on I will come out and shovel again before my bubby gets home." Well, later on the snow turned to freezing rain (when the rain falls and freezes as it touches the cold surface). Do you know what happens at times like these? A fine layer of ice covers everything just like sugar on creme brule.
So there I went. The sweet, cute fluffly dry snow had now turned into wet and heavy white shit. And I had to get the whole driveway done. The whole freakishly long driveway. Oh, yes, when you have to shovel wet snow, any driveway is freakishly long. And I still had to do the front and back doors as well, and thanks to God, some one had done our sidewalk.
Oh, yes! To top it off, I had menstrual cramps. You know, if you are girl, what means - they are those cramps that only a liter of morphine could possibly make go away. But I don't usually store morphine in the house, you know.
About 30 minutes into the ice shoveling, I had to get rid of the two winter coats I had on, because I was already sweating bullets. The cramps were gone. The pain had moved to the upper arms.
About an hour after that I took off my scarf and put it down on the snow. 90 minutes later I would come back to find a frozen scarf on the snow.
As soon as I took off the scarf, these 2 boys walk by, carrying shovels. "Do you need help?" I said "I'm all set," when I obviously still had 3/4 of the driveway to do. "Are you sure?" "Yeah! Tks though!"
See, I figured they were teenage boys (couldn't tell from the distance) hoping to get money for helping me. Well, God gave me arms and legs and youth - for now. I can afford to refuse help. I figured I could not let the boys help me than go like, "will you take a check?" Since we never carry money on us... or keep it in the house...
So I went on alone, wearing just a sweatshirt and snow pants. And gloves. 2 pairs of gloves.
I was done with the whole driveway 1.5 hours after that teenager episode. I took photos from the before. I forgot to take one of the after. I was so tired ... and frozen. Really, my hair was frozen. And so was my sweatshirt and my hat. Maybe I will take pictures of the fruit of my work to morrow before leaving for work.
When I got home it was already almost 4pm. 5 Minutes later hubby was home. I thought I was going to have a hot cocoa by myself. Well, I didn't have to.
I guess I should really learn how to operate that snow blower.
Saturday, January 01, 2011
No snow day so far. No fun. No making snowmen. No snow angels. No sledding. No hot cocoa. But everything outside reminds me it's winter. The snow that fell as if not wanting to is still sitting there - on the grass, and on the sidewalks. Muddy and ugly on the side of the streets. My sore arms still remind me I had to shovel the end of the driveway. Just the end. The snow chose the right place to sit - the end of the driveway. As if saying, I'm not letting you out until you give me some blood.
The temperatures have been bellow or close to freezing everyday.
Meanwhile in Brazil...
My family enjoys the warmth of the sun and the salty breeze of our beach. My beach. The one I chose to leave behind.
They celebrate the arrival of a new year standing outside, in shorts and spaghetti straps.
I know. I chose this life for me. I just wish the cold didn't have to come with it. I don't belong in a place with cold weather. A kind of weather that makes me shiver for a good quarter of an hour for every 5 minutes I spend outside. A kind of weather that forces me to cover everything I'm so proud to show. A kind of weather that simply tells me heartlessly and coldly that I must rethink my wardrobe.
I tell you what. It's envy. The cold weather has envy of what God gave me. And it does not want me to show it off to the world. So it keeps remind me to cover myself in layers and layers of winter gear.
I tell you what, cold weather. You won't win. I will not end my days here, where you tell me what to wear. And tell me how sore my arms will be from shoveling the snow you bring. Some day I will leave you. Some day I will go back to my place - my beach. Where I can walk in my bikinis all day long, and shower outside anytime I want. Where I can climb my cashew tree and eat mangoes and drink coconut water as much as I want.
Who will be laughing then, envious cold weather? Who will be laughing then?