Live Free or Die

While Bill is in England visiting his family, the boys and I are in New Hampshire for a little getaway.  This afternoon we went snow shoeing for the first time on a trail around America's Stonehenge in Salem, NH.  We mistakenly left the orange trail.  At the intersection of the blue and green trails -- and a half hour before the trail closed -- I called the trail office and asked for advice on which way to go.  We handed our snow shoes in just before dusk. I had arranged to stay at a hotel with a big pool.  Unfortunately, the configuration of the hotel room is exactly the same as that of the The Black Bra Inn.  Will noted, "It's not as luxurious as some."  But not as bad as others -- no lingerie was tucked under the bed legs.

To the pool we went.  We were there with 25 other boys.  First, I thought, "Great, kids for the boys to play with!"  That was a short-lived thought.  Boys were cannon-balling into the hot tub and grabbing each other around the neck to dunk and hold under water in the pool  They were taking cups of water and tossing them at each other, and me.  I could see bewilderment in my boys' eyes.  A parent asked me if I was doing OK with the raucous.  I asked if it was a bunch of boys from the same class.  No.  It's a hockey team. 9-year-olds

The icing on the cake was when a half dozen of them decided to treat the tiled pool deck as a slip'n'slide.  Getting a good running start, they threw themselves headfirst down the pool deck.  Surely, now, a parent will say something.  Oh indeed.  The video camera came out and a mom said, "Do it again!"  Is this how hockey players really lose their teeth?

As the slip'n'slide was in full tilt, the hotel front desk clerk kicked them out of the pool, telling them there was a private party coming in.  There was no private party.  I'm pretty sure the clerk was just scared to kick out a hockey team and hockey parents carrying red plastic cups.  Anyway, as they were kicked out of the pool, one of the dads handed me a small "Personal Bible: Verses of comfort, assurance, and salvation" as he explained, "I give them to everyone I meet.

Honest to Pete, I wanted to tell him to save his kid's teeth and chin before trying to save me..

Did I mention that New Hampshire's state motto is "Live Free or Die"?

Now, would you believe that at 11 p.m. the fire alarm went off in the hotel?  And following the beeps, a woman said, "A fire has been reported in the building.  Please leave the building."  Apparently, all fire alarms are now armed with a motherly voice. One 50-pound child woke up and looked at me wide-eyed.  The other 50-pound child did not hear it.  So we put clothes on him and opened our door.  The neighbors were just returning to their room.  Seems there had been a fire in a microwave.

Did I mention there are three hockey teams staying at this hotel tonight?

Overcoming Barriers

Barriers baffle me. I didn't knock this one off the hinges doing 98 like I did at the Museum of Science. It came down gently, but firmly, and landed on top of the van. At a railroad crossing.

First, know (Mom!) that I was in NO danger! We regularly criss-cross train tracks; the towns we normally travel through are on the commuter rail. I'm very conscious of the flat barrier: the thick white line painted on the roads well out of reach of the moving barrier's slice. I've given driving lessons to the boys on the importance of these lines. They'll be driving before we know it. (Wow, those are my dad's words -- they just fell out in his voice, so I guess I better leave them!)

This incident occurred on a funny right-hand turn. At a major intersection, there is a little ramp that shoots off the main road for right-hand turns. I've driven on it often but never when a train was approaching. I saw the lights flash so I stopped before the flat white line barrier. Then out of my rearview mirror, I saw motion, and a split second later, I heard the gently thud. I double-checked that I was safe -- because if necessary I could reverse doing 98. I was safe. I patiently waited for the train to go and for the barrier to lift. And it did.

I have been back to check that white line in relation to the barrier. The ramp has double white lines: one before the barrier and one after the barrier. Apparently, the second one is bolstered by the firm grip of the barrier.

Thankfully the boys weren't in the car with me. If they doubt me when the smoke alarm woman gets on her "fire, fire" kick, panic would've struck at the sight of a railroad barrier landing on the van.

A Sleet Day

(Written January 2011: The winter of 70+ inches of snow in Boston.)

I’m awake early this morning after a heavy snow dream: We drove up to our house and our roof had collapsed. When we went inside, we saw that only the attic had collapsed, but we watched as the plaster slowly peeled away from all the walls on the second floor. I left the dream having called a roofer and wondering if we should call the construction company.

In real life, we have had 70 inches of snow – I’m not sure if that includes the two inches of ice from last Thursday. There have been enough snow days that Will wakes up assuming it’s a snow day until told otherwise. For days we have been watching six to eight inches of ice on the narrow overhang above the deck, just over the door to our house. Last weekend, from the driveway I looked up concerned that it would collapse, but Bill was unsure that anything could be done.

On Monday, Bill went away on business for the week. Tuesday we had twelve more inches of snow. Wednesday we woke up to sleet and another snow day. That morning the boys were in their pj’s playing and I decided to take a quick shower – until I opened the curtain to look out my bedroom window. Eight inches of snow rested on the window pane. Aha! This is the roof of the overhang! Right outside my bedroom window! I can shovel this roof from my bedroom window!

Armed with a baby snow shovel and a full-size snow shovel, I opened the window. Unfortunately, this particular window is one that when the lock is released the top window falls down a bit. But I was still able to reach out and push a lot of snow off. If I leaned my upper body out of the window, I could reach right to the edge of the ice. Looking at the amount of ice built up, I hoped that if the wall gave and took me with it, that someone would find the little orange snow shovel so they would know I hadn’t jumped due to another snow day. The amount of ice under the snow was shocking: Six inches thick up to a small boulder in a corner where the sun rarely glanced. Still I had done what I could – as the morning news had suggested – in removing snow behind the ice to avoid an ice jam.

I was ready to move on to window #2. I started the usual dance with the funky window: push the top one up that had fallen and hold it in place while pushing the other one down. We’ve done it a million times. But today, the top window pops out of the frame and thuds onto the ice roof I had just shoveled from my bedroom window. Moments of silence… then under my breath… “Nooo!”

My neighbor had told me to call if I needed anything while Bill was away. “My bedroom window fell out while I was shoveling my roof.” I scrapped that scenario and lunged out the open hole to grab the window – wet but no broken glass. Forty-five minutes later, I had learned a lot about window design, including how the little pulley system should work if the window is installed properly. I gave up on proper installation and managed to wedge it into the slides, delicately push it up, and snap the lock.

I shoveled from window #2 without incident then went downstairs to check on the boys. “I thought you were going to shower, Mom.” My straight hair had been sleeted on while I was clearing snow, so the curls were wet and crazy. “No, I decided to shovel snow. I’m going out to do the steps now.” Two feet of roof snow was on the steps.

As long as I was out, I thought it would be a good idea to clear a path to the mailbox from the drive before all of the sleet froze on top of the snow banks. The box itself was the only thing visible, gulping for air under a muddy snow mound. Slowly, I cleared a shovel’s width of snow and ice, three feet high. I moved to the street side, thinking I would help out the mailman as well. Then a snow plow came over the hill. So I stepped back into my drive. And as he left the ridge in the drive, I smiled pointed to my shovel and to him. He backed up and cleared the ridge he had just left in the drive. I gave him a thumb’s up as he went on his way.

I returned to the box. My three feet of snow had returned: the ridge across my drive was now another three-foot high muddy, icy, slushy mound filling my little path to the box. I cleared it again from my drive and left the street-side mound for the government to deal with. My shower was long over due.