the first snow and post

I never thought of myself as a cliche, but I found myself wanting my own blog after seeing Julie & Julia. Not that I haven't been thinking about it for the past year, but I was having a hard time coming up with what exactly I should blog about. Has anything happened to me over the past couple of years that would be of interest to myself and any potential readers? Maybe not a lot, but a lot of change sure has happened. I got married, moved out of the city, bought a house that desperately needed renovations, got a puppy, and tried to compromise with my husband along the way. I've learned that your wedding day comes and goes, you can put in a new kitchen and forget about the old one, and potty train your puppy if you wake up in the middle of the night long enough. The compromising part is a work in progress.

Take today, for example. After we got nearly a foot of snow, my husband, Raymond, decides to start shoveling our walkway and sidewalk. We had recently learned that Lower Merion Township requires all homeowners to clear a 30-inch wide pathway in the sidewalk in front of their homes within 30 hours. Someone on the Township Board must use 30 as their lucky number for roulette, because what is the rationale behind 30 inches and 30 hours? Is a passerby more likely to fall after the snow has been on the ground for 31 hours? Either way, Raymond was in no hurry to pay up to $600 for noncompliance, so he headed out of the house, shovel in hand, at 9 in the morning. What you don't know is that Raymond has a bad back (a combination of genetic predisposition and years of forced labor shoveling snow as a kid) and insisted on shoveling anyway. He also wanted to get an early start on shoveling because one of our neighbors had shoveled our sidewalk the night before and he wanted to return the favor.

By the time I went outside, coffee in hand, I knew that shoveling would be too stressful for his back. I stood in his way, demanding that he get back in the house, and that I wouldn't leave until he stopped shoveling. He was annoyed, and begrudgingly returned inside. He had wanted to finish our neighbor's sidewalk, and when I had come outside, he only had time to finish ours. I promised him that I would finish shoveling the neighbor's sidewalk after breakfast. Within ten minutes, we hear our neighbor outside shoveling. Raymond is miffed. I run outside to greet her, with an explanation of how I had every intention to finish her sidewalk after breakfast, and that I wasn't really that selfish after she had taken the time to shovel our sidewalk (and walkway) in subzero temperatures. She looked unfazed and amused. Her mother, who has since passed, used to make her shovel the sidewalks of their elderly neighbors when she was a kid, so it had become a habit. She said she liked being outdoors, and that if it didn't bother me, she would continue to shovel our sidewalk from time to time.

I walked away from her with a warm fuzzy feeling. It's nice to know that rituals still exist, and you can indirectly (or directly) help out a neighbor and still listen to your mom. I never met the woman, but I would have liked to. I hope that wherever she is, she has snow-free sidewalks.

Unfortunately for Raymond, he will be spending most of the day lying on the couch. He strained his back while shoveling.

Life on the Main Line is interesting, to say the least.