Ground Bound
The other day Tom talked about his feelings for snow in a piece aptly called "I hate winter." I commented that one of the few things I actually like about living in a Chicago is the fact that everyone shovels here. And then a day like today happens.
See it snowed yesterday in our fair city. The problem was that not enough snow fell. Everyone looked out their windows and saw the light dusting, maybe a quarter of an inch at most and figured it would all be gone shortly after sunrise so why bother donning hat and scarf to brush away so little. Unfortunately the sun rose but the temperature did not rise. The ground stayed hard and would absorb no moisture. During the brief period the sun was out it managed to melt just enough of the snow so that water ran across every sidewalk and then the sun and all its warmth fell over the western horizon and the ground turned into one solid sheet of ice.
So I've been patiently waiting for the rains to stop so that I might engage in my daily exercise that also serves as my only escape from the asylum. I take an hour stroll about the neighborhood paying only the slightest bit of attention to what is going on around me while I let my mind wander in a trance like way slowly composing an outline in my head of what it is I will be ranting on in the late evening hours. (Some may call them the early morning hours, but I like to think it isn't morning until I wake up). I have a casual stride and while I cover quite a bit of ground I usually find the effort to be refreshing rather than taxing.
Today, I had thought that I had just cold air and no rain with which to contend, that I would have a quick if brisk walk. One assumed that there would be clean sidewalks and that I should easily be able to take my nightly foray into the world if I but bundle up enough and remember stop in a store half way to let my extremities warm up a bit. (and to purchase chocolate). Walking out the door I realized the sidewalks were not safe for man or beast, that no one had bothered to scrape their sidewalks clean and that every step would be treacherous. Yet I was determined to escape the asylum, to get at least a little exercise in before riding the couch through the three hours of Lost, The West Wing and Law & Order. So I went on with my walk with eyes glued to ground in front of my feet, arms out and hands ready to catch myself in a cat like way should I slip (which I did not because I am cat like) and mind very much in the moment thinking not of books or worldly events but on how I can sometimes be a stubborn idiot and how all of these people who did not shovel needed to be horse whipped. It was a difficult and trying time that left me not feeling refreshed but rather wiped out and my only reward a container of cookies tat will probably end up adding more calories than I had burned. (ELFudge. Everybody Loves Fudge or Elf udge. A silly purchase, but a very tasty one.)
So right now to all my fellow Chicagoans: Shovel your walks you lazy bastards.
I'm eating cookies so I really need my exercise. I blame my future heart disease on you!
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See it snowed yesterday in our fair city. The problem was that not enough snow fell. Everyone looked out their windows and saw the light dusting, maybe a quarter of an inch at most and figured it would all be gone shortly after sunrise so why bother donning hat and scarf to brush away so little. Unfortunately the sun rose but the temperature did not rise. The ground stayed hard and would absorb no moisture. During the brief period the sun was out it managed to melt just enough of the snow so that water ran across every sidewalk and then the sun and all its warmth fell over the western horizon and the ground turned into one solid sheet of ice.
So I've been patiently waiting for the rains to stop so that I might engage in my daily exercise that also serves as my only escape from the asylum. I take an hour stroll about the neighborhood paying only the slightest bit of attention to what is going on around me while I let my mind wander in a trance like way slowly composing an outline in my head of what it is I will be ranting on in the late evening hours. (Some may call them the early morning hours, but I like to think it isn't morning until I wake up). I have a casual stride and while I cover quite a bit of ground I usually find the effort to be refreshing rather than taxing.
Today, I had thought that I had just cold air and no rain with which to contend, that I would have a quick if brisk walk. One assumed that there would be clean sidewalks and that I should easily be able to take my nightly foray into the world if I but bundle up enough and remember stop in a store half way to let my extremities warm up a bit. (and to purchase chocolate). Walking out the door I realized the sidewalks were not safe for man or beast, that no one had bothered to scrape their sidewalks clean and that every step would be treacherous. Yet I was determined to escape the asylum, to get at least a little exercise in before riding the couch through the three hours of Lost, The West Wing and Law & Order. So I went on with my walk with eyes glued to ground in front of my feet, arms out and hands ready to catch myself in a cat like way should I slip (which I did not because I am cat like) and mind very much in the moment thinking not of books or worldly events but on how I can sometimes be a stubborn idiot and how all of these people who did not shovel needed to be horse whipped. It was a difficult and trying time that left me not feeling refreshed but rather wiped out and my only reward a container of cookies tat will probably end up adding more calories than I had burned. (ELFudge. Everybody Loves Fudge or Elf udge. A silly purchase, but a very tasty one.)
So right now to all my fellow Chicagoans: Shovel your walks you lazy bastards.
I'm eating cookies so I really need my exercise. I blame my future heart disease on you!
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posted by Rich Rosenthal II at 1:24 AM
4 Comments:
See? See? I told you winter sucks! Even my dog slipped and almost fell the other day. (Of course, he's a clutz for a four-legged creature.)
Where on earth are your old macomb survival instincts? you've walked q-lot when it was a glaring sheet of ice, you've made the walk to the bar--and sidewalks are what the people of this town shovel the snow from their driveways into.
if you ever start to slip, don't do the flailing arms thing and eventually land on your back, just sit down the moment you start to slip. it's less painful that way...this is the tactic i employ whilst ice skating.
I'm cat like!
Brrrr. It's too cold to think about.
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