Winter’s Grace (or lack thereof)
// January 24th, 2011 // 16 Comments » // My Fabulous Life
“No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.”
~Hal Borland
The very thought of winter sends a chill…. oh, never mind. I’m not going to wax poetic about the gorgeous snow-laden blue spruce, or the perfectly wind-sculpted drifts across my back yard, or the comforts of a roaring fire during winter in Iowa.
This is about my trip to Sam’s.
Last Friday was our coldest day of the year. We even hit pay dirt when Al Roker announced on the Today Show that we were the coldest spot in the nation at -20 degrees.
Yes, friends. MINUS. TWENTY.
I worked late, then quickly went to the gym before running a few errands. So I left sweaty, but put on my Hugh Jass down coat and figured I’d be warm and it would be a quick trip. The year I bought that coat, I had to trade cars and get an SUV, because yes, I was TOO BIG FOR MY CAR in that coat. I’m too big for revolving doors in that coat.
But it’s really warm.
Tall lambs wool-lined boots. Wool hat. Triple wrapped scarf. Fleece gloves. Bundled in an “I can’t put my arms down!” sort of way. Off to a quick stop at Sam’s hunting for a UNI shirt to wear to the basketball game. You know, since I’ve used all the others as pajamas and they look, well, slept in. I lumbered out carrying my computer bag, my gym bag, a crate of clementines that I bought the day before and didn’t want to freeze in the car, my lunch bag, and my purse. All this stuff got piled in the passenger seat, but of course not from the passenger door. That would have been too simple.
I squished myself in my seat (it’s still none too big when you’re wearing a whole flock of geese that fly down mid-calf) and headed south. When I wormed my way out of the car at Sam’s, my boot slipped on the running board and as I went down, I was praising God for all those geese who were hatched just to protect my backside. I slammed the door, but the seatbelt hadn’t done it’s duty, and it was hanging out the door. I tried to reopen the door.
Stuck.
I unlocked the car and went around to the passenger side, stuffing my keys in my big coat pocket. Of course, I looked first to see if anyone saw me go down. Whew. Except the parking lot security camera probably has it on YouTube by now. Huge coat, enormous boots, hat, gloves, and ear lobes crackling with frozen sweat, I attempted to climb over the shoulder-high pile on the seat so I could push the door open from the inside. Then the car alarm went off. Hindquarters (covered in down) were high in the air as a sweet gentleman knocked on my window and asked me if I was OK.
DID I LOOK OK?
“My door’s stuck.”
“Your car alarm is going off.”
“Really?”
I had nothing to grab but the steering wheel and I couldn’t get enough leverage to get to the driver’s seat as my goose-flock was hung up on my gym bag and the corner of the crate of clementines. He came around the passenger door.
“Would you like me to give you a shove from behind?”
Ummm. No. I silently prayed that objects in down coats aren’t as large as they appear.
After an army-crawl across the car, I gave the door a shove, then tried to find my keys in my coat. Stupid car alarm. Eventually I ambled into the store, but alas, no wine samples.
I found some UNI shirts and texted a couple of pictures to Ron Burgundy, asking him which ones he liked.
“That lliks nice.”
“Are yoi getimg one to”
“Whaevee you like bess.”
BESS?
Texting pro, remember? You’d think he was the one trying to text in fleece gloves.
The shirt purchased, my work there was done. Once again I will survive winter in Iowa. It’s not always pretty, not always graceful, but it always brings His promise of Spring and perhaps a crocus in the snow.
This post is part of the “One Word at a Time” blog carnival hosted by Peter Pollock.
