The big snow

snow mar 2011 006 a photo by woodsrun on Flickr.

We had a big storm. duh, like who didn't. I can't complain about how much snow we have--my Midwestern friends wouldn't appreciate that. It started snowing on Sunday, snowed all day yesterday. We ended up with 27" of new snow. This makes the snow almost waist-deep for me. Which wouldn't be a problem except that my plow man couldn't plow to the house because he'd been stuck too many times at other places. So I have to slog through the snow, with my ashtmatic wheeze, to get to my car at the end of thte driveway. I won't even talk about what getting wood from the shed entails.

The ladder in the picture is about 5' high.

We were closed yesterday so I pretended to be productive but then gave up on the whole idea. I did the dishes and wached old Sopranos shows. A total waste.

I felt redeemed, however, because on Sunday I moved a trunk downstairs to the living room. It was full--no, really, full, of photos. Documenting the last 26 years. I know I've always liked taking pictures, but why do I have a picture of each Chistmas tree, sans label telling me what year it was? I threw those out. There were an historic number of photos of ex-husband, which I did NOT keep. I made a huge pile to send to his parents--there are lots of pictures of their grandchildren as babies, etc. Plus J's brother & sister. Had to tactfully exclude any shots that had ANY image of brother's ex-wife The Evil One. I love hearing 2 sides of a marriage split--no, wait, were these people married to EACH OTHER? Or are they talking about 2 different marriages? I know J's memories of our marriage and my memories are different--I have lots of good memories, he (apparently) doesn't. Who cares. I'm also ever so much happier & peaceful living alone. ahhhh...solitude. Nothing like it.

Anyway, I threw out a huge pile of pictures, made a small pile for Jenica, kept a huge pile (to do what with? wallpaper the bedroom?) and made a big pile for J's family. Like, pictures of his dog from 1984, when Dave was a puppy, before we had him destroyed because he bit someone. Lots of pictures of now-dead dogs. And places we used to live. And chickens, lots of pictures of chickens. It was amazing to me that I wasn't the least bit emotional going through those. Just a chronicle of my life, nothing more. No big trauma in sorting through them. Life is good, no?