When you live in a wickedly, wintry state like Maine, your life depends on the snowplow person. Most likely, they’ll be male. They might also have the following, quirky characteristics: a surly sense of humor, a fondness for frumpy, flannel shirts and grungy jeans, and the terrible timing of a tow truck driver – turning up when you’re either sound asleep or just waking up.
Now, I have an admiration for these dedicated dudes. If it weren’t for them, we’d be skidding in the slippery streets of sleet. It isn’t easy, moving huge piles of wet, heavy snow for hours. But they do get paid for it. Fairly well, from what I gather. I don’t know why they appear to have an asshole attitude, when they’re not working for free. They seem to sneer at everyone who doesn’t own a plow. Perhaps, their important plow is a survivalists’ status symbol.
Don’t even think about flirting with these grumpy guys. Maybe I’m too old or it’s just too cold – but cleavage cracks won’t clear your car off. Your best bet, if you need any extra assistance from them, is to give them bitter black coffee and a day old doughnut. The cheaper the better. I recently made the mistake, of offering our snowplow dude a delicious latte. He actually cringed and quickly walked away. He seemed suspicious, as if it was an arsenic-laced beverage.
Maybe we’ll buy a snazzy snowplow someday, but I’d rather have a Mercedes first. In the meantime, I’m perfecting my shoveling techniques. After all, I was born and raised in Michigan; I’m no winter-wimp. I bundle up in luscious layers of cashmere and alpaca, put on my warmest boots and gloves, and sling snow like a pro. So let the snowplow dude snicker at my sloppy skills, I don’t care. I’ll make a cup of cozy cocoa when I’m through, and happily watch the flakes fall. Ultimately, I’ll be the one laughing. Fortunately, I don’t have to shovel that shit, at the brisk break of a dismal day.
I guess there are drawbacks to everything. But I also know that if you have the right tools and equipment, any job is easier. I’d be outfitted in flannel lined waterproofed outerwear with warm, yummy layers underneath. I hear silk long johns are pretty much the ticket because they’re thin and flexible but really warm because they trap bodyheat the same way wetsuits do. Exept they’re dry. Mudrooms are also a necessity if I lived in that part of the world. Kinda reminds me of the story about a new southern bride who moved up north with her new husband. In her letter to home, she marveled at the quiet, perfect beauty of the first snow fall. By the time March rolled around, she was bellyachin’ that “more of the white shit fell last night”.
HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU, YOUR HUBBY AND KIDDIE KATS! xoxo
Why whine about winter, when you can be comfortable? I bought the best, Jockey modal Long Janes. They’re super soft. Actually, I’ve been enjoying winter, so far. I know, though, that I’ll be yearning for leafy trees and ocean breezes around March. HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU, TOO & YOUR DARLING DOGGIES! (HUGE HUG)
I would LOVE winter up there in Maine. I am a big fan of hearth and home and all things cabin-like cozy. You’ve got it made. Except, of course, for Billy G. Gruff who makes extra dough plowing snow. He’s need to be cut out of your perfect picture. Maybe you’ll get lucky and he’ll get struck on a troll bridge around dinnertime. I bet then he’d be wishing he had your lovely latte to offer up in exchange for his grumpy rump. hehehe
*sheepish grin*…from my typos you can tell I need that latte STAT!
I’ve become quite fond of our grumpy guy. He cracked a small smile the other day, when I thanked him for his help. Winter is wonderful, because it affords you the chance to hide and hibernate. Some of us, might be fantasizing about fab, fox furs!
I’ll treat you to a pumpkin spice latte! I promise, Princess.
It’s always great to get a grump to smile. I have one who moved in next door a few months back. The house had been foreclosed and it sat vacant for a couple of years. I was really happy when someone bought it. I dreamed of it being filled with life again. Then HE moved in. Single. Solitary. Grumpy. The quintessential rat in the race. If he were a color it would be beige. All the other neighbors have remarked about his lack of friendliness. I just keep bugging him every time I see him. My cheerful, smiling HELLO’s are over the top and are never skipped when I see him. The other night he cracked a smile. SCORE!
Pumpkin Spice latte’s are disappearing into my waned 2012 past. Time to make like a drill sargent and whip this body into shape. Hmmmm. Dreaming of fox fur? You don’t say?
If anyone could warm a grumpy guy’s heart, it’s probably you, Princess. I don’t doubt that he’ll eventually schmooze with you. At least, you’ll talk superficially about the weather (always being the same in Cali). BTW: I never got around to trying your PSL. Maybe in the future, when I’m wearing the fab, fox fur. A dame can always dream!