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.

Drugged Out

Just one of the many fun things about returning to live in my childhood home is running across relics from the past. The book above is just one of the many I have discovered. I remember reading it in the early 70s and I remember my oldies discussing it with me. In fact they continued to have the good drug v. bad drug discussion with me through my college days.

My father is still on the sick pillow. The doctor said he may continue to feel lousy while his body recovers. So, even though the antibiotic pills (usually a good drug) are done for now, he still has trouble sleeping which he needs for his recovery.

For sleep aid, the doctor prescribed something heavy duty. The kind that the pharmacist scans your eyes and your face trying to judge if you plan to sell these on the street. The kind that would not just make you forget to feed your baby -- you would forget that you had a baby.

This may be a good drug for some people but it was a bad drug for my father. He was hallucinating and having horrible nightmares. He had trouble breathing from the panic. One pill did not a good night make.

Obviously he requested a different medication and it seems to be working. Good drug! He slept well last night and has been dozing all day. He already looks better thanks to some well-needed rest. The only side effect from the new drug (other than he might not stop sleeping for the next week) is he's grasping for the proper word. He asked my mother what one of the dog's name is. When he's awake, he's grinning a lot. I attended a gathering for a friend's mother's recent death. When I came home, my father asked me, "How was the furniture?"

Then he gave me a hug and said, "See you at dinner." My mother's theory is as long as his appetite remains constant, she's not worried.

On The Sick Pillow

Whatever the ailment might be, my oldies and I refer to it as being "on the sick pillow." The unwritten rules are:

You may (and are encouraged to) stay in bed.

Napping is mandatory.

You are allowed to choose the menu based on what sounds good and what you think your stomach will tolerate.

All household chores are removed from duty; you have no duties.

You get the television remote.

Ice cream is encouraged -- you must keep up your strength!

You may bathe but then it's fresh pjs and right back in bed.

You get to decide if the house is too warm or too cold.

People must come to you instead of you getting up and walking to them.

My father has been on the sick pillow since Saturday afternoon. All rules are in full force. My mother is a little suspicious that he enjoys being on the sick pillow and might milk it a bit. I don't know if he enjoys it but two little dogs are reveling in it.