Beginning to Get Less . . .
Anytime I wake up and see the streets and buildings packed up with snow, my mind automatically fills with excitement. It’s certainly not because I want to run out there to clean off my car and then move it so the plows can do their thing, --it’s because it triggers some wonderful memories of when I was growing up. Snow meant the possibility of having a day off from school. My sisters and I would go outside and make snowmen, or we’d just watch my dad push a shitload of snow onto a mound with his backhoe and make a 20 ft tall snowman himself. He even packed it with the plow to make it somewhat 'round'. We’d climb up the giant snowman with carrots and little stones to finish up the face. That snowman must have stayed well into the middle of July - he was so big! We would come running inside, tracking snow everywhere until mom stopped us at the end of the hallway to take off our boots and jackets. I always had to wear this hideous snowsuit that made it impossible to move my arms,...