Snow Days

We're still digging out from the 15-plus inches of snow we received Tuesday night and Wednesday. The city is slowly coming back to life but the first day was a nightmare for many.

The kindness of neighbors continues to amaze me. My father is no longer on the sick pillow but still recovering from pneumonia. Twice he's gone outside to shovel and neighbors run over to send him in the house. Even I have done some shoveling but when I told a friend, he didn't believe me.

Do you remember the feeling of waiting to hear if school was cancelled for the day? I swear a collective cheer could be heard throughout my childhood neighborhood once we knew it was a snow day. It was too dangerous to tromp to the bus stop or walk to school but we could be suited up and out to play in minutes. Sledding, making snow angels, building snowmen or just romping. It was all such fun. Although I will admit to being a weenie about sledding. High speed was never my goal and I always feared hitting a tree. Life can't be all fun -- I recall being knocked off a sled or two. Then it's take a break, have some cocoa, then bundle up for round two.

Snow days for adults have less appeal. We worry about straining our back while shoveling. Frankly, I worry about the old bird across the street who reshovels the end of her driveway. Is this really worth the risk at her age? When my prior oldies (the Belle and the Captain) lived with us, they could fall for no reason at all. Walking through the house was a fall waiting to happen. Yet this neighbor who is older than they were is out there on a mission.

We worry about the condition of the roads. We worry about other drivers. I am always certain I will get stuck and I usually do. Hot chocolate doesn't seem like enough of a reward for risking my life behind the wheel. Nine layers of clothing make most of us look and feel like the Goodyear blimp -- never my fashion goal.

I don't wish to be a child again but I wouldn't mind having a moment of the pure ecstasy associated with snow days.

Garanimals

Do you remember Garanimals? It was a clothing line that helped children learn to dress themselves yet still match. A top with a monkey tag could be paired with shorts or pants with a monkey tag. I have no idea if this product still exists but I thought it was brilliant.

Yesterday I went to the bank and the grocery store. Some adult people in this town need Garanimals.

I fantasize about Garanimal tags with the X through it. That would mean: Never wear this again!

Since I work from home, I am guilty of choosing comfort over fashion. When I leave home, I try to step it up a notch but I often fall into my rut. Black pants and white t-shirt. White pants and black t-shirt. Jeans and a black or white t-shirt. Adding kicky shoes or accessories is about as far as I go.

I was meant to live in New York.

Dotted Swiss and Other Bad Fashion Ideas

It could be rickrack. It might be dotted swiss, ruffles or just the general Gunny Sax look. It comes back to haunt us. Beware friends of mine!! I have lots of photos. Here are just a few.

The Belle loved to buy dresses for me. I was in my 40s while they lived with us, yet she would primp and fuss over me like I was going to a prom.

I was looking for a particular photo and stumbled across every bad dress I wore to a dance or prom. My dates' attires were even worse: baby blue tux, etc. One date brought a top hat and a cane. We didn't date long.

There are no photos of me with a bad perm. The good news is that I never needed one. The bad news is my hair looked weird enough on its own.

Isn't it funny how a photo (or a song) can transport you in time? I like to look at them and ask, "What was I thinking?" I do remember. Mostly I wonder what my parents were thinking.

I wonder if the grown daughter feels that way about her Madonna stage. I wonder if the baby will regret dressing like the boyz in the hood. Or will they embrace it as just a stage?