Survival of the Iciest

First Published in the Tri-Town Transcript February 26, 2015

Well, Regular Readers, what’s really left to say at this point?
Target is selling flip flops, and Oreos is marketing yellow ‘spring’ cookies at Stop-n-Shop.
The nation doesn’t get us.
Unless they plan to start stocking snow blowers instead of spring fashion tights, and remake Oreos to be laced with whisky, then forget them.

Spring marketing is not hopeful. It’s not cute.
It does not endear us to their product. It makes me want to take every cookie and spring dress and piece of Easter candy in New England and dissolve it in a bucket of calcium chloride . . . if only I could find some.
We are on our own and it’s getting ugly. You may recall my last column I was commenting on my roof raking skills. Never mind. Our roof has more snow and ice on it than the entire state of Alaska. The ice dams are so monstrous, the waiting lists for guys to come is so long . . .
Added to all that, our family took a short vacation over February break. A vacation we responsibly delayed by a day in order to work on snow removal. We shoveled and raked and then, giving ourselves an ‘A’ for effort, we headed, not south to sunshine and sand, no, we went north. To Canada. To a place that was 25 degrees colder. To take part in that warm and snuggly family activity: skiing. Apparently the weather froze our brain cells along with our gutters.
To be fair, it was sunny, and we did miss blizzard number whatever down here. Plus there is nothing quite like skiing with a high of -16 Fahrenheit to let you know you are alive and able to experience pain in your extremities. No matter how many layers of smart-wool and silk you swath yourself in -16 will find the cracks. Still, we rallied and skied our frozen little hearts out day by day, fueled by frequent cocoa and beer breaks and . . . poutine.
You know what warms the heart? French fries smothered in hot gravy and cheese! Hello cholesterol, you are welcome here because you thaw me and make me temporarily feel hope for a future that doesn’t end in ice.
Also, the French Canadians sell pickle-flavored Doritos.
Stop right there. They are pure happiness in a bag. Make enough terribly unhealthy, but awfully tasty food and any country, regardless of temperature, will seem like a vacation!!
But any vacation will also come to an end. Leaving the tundra to return to . . . the tundra is a distinctly unsatisfying experience. Returning to find that your daughter’s room has sprung a leak and flooded is even worse. But returning to the tundra, and leaky rooms, AND an extra foot of snow on your roof with a ‘wintery mix’ in the forecast wins the prize.
If only the prize was a store that actually sold the items we need this winter.
After much calling and emailing and texting we finally found some guys who were available to come in and help with our roof in the places my husband, despite being exceedingly tall, simply couldn’t reach without either actual roofing gear or mortal danger. The guys only charged us a bag of diamonds and our first born grandchild, so we felt like it was a great deal compared to the much higher quotes we’d gotten. And I get it – they did a great job, were polite, and it’s dangerous horrible work. Horrible.
You know what else is horrible?
This entire February. By the time you read this it should be nearly, if not fully, over. Good blasted riddance.
My birthday is in March. I think we all know what I want. Hint, it’s not white. But barring some miraculous weather reversal, I will settle for a bag of Pickle Doritos.