Like a Good Neighbor

From time to time on this blog, I'll be writing stories about how crazy and rude and obnoxious and disgusting my neighbors are. Making fun of them and proving my own superiority, I'll tell tales that will make them look like hillbillies, rednecks, and white trash. Those stories will also be valid but today I want to share an example of good, old-fashioned country neighborliness.

I've been fortunate in the last week while our area has been inundated with heavy snows and icy roads - I have been on vacation and haven't had to be anywhere at any specific time. Arnie has also been lucky in that he and his staff agreed that, given inclement weather and bad driving conditions, they could all work as effectively from home as they could from their office in the wilderness. So, other than an occasional trip to the nearest store for more provisions (that usually means wine and a few food items at our house), one trip to the neurologist, a little Christmas shopping, and the gift exchange with my family, we have not needed to go anywhere.

Then, it was Sunday morning and I realized we were going to have to get serious. To our credit, it really hasn't made any sense to try to shovel the driveway or do much more than keep one car accessible and ready to roll - until the past 24 hours, it has been a constant snowstorm, adding inches to the accumulation every time we turned around. Yesterday, it started raining and raining and raining. You'd think the rain would start melting the snow and I suppose it has but not so much that you could look out the window and see a lot of difference.

Anyway, rather than praying for the rain to melt the snow enough so we could get both cars out, we decided to hike to the top of the road and start digging in hopes of getting the Cadillac unburied to the place that we could drive it. I'm not exaggerating when I say that there was a pile of 2 feet of snow on the top of the car and that the giant pile of snow that had slid off the car was higher than the wheelcaps. So, we started digging and digging. And I must say that snow doesn't exactly bring out the best in me or Arnie, so there was a little bickering and disagreeing along the way, which wasn't making the task at hand any more enjoyable.

Then, around the corner, not unlike Santa Claus and his sleigh, came Mike Rainey and his John Deere tractor, complete with a front-end plow and rear-end grader, cruising up and down
East Evans Creek Rd. looking for couples in distress such as ourselves. Mike and his wife Bobbie, along with their daughter Chloe and son-in-law Travis, run the closest thing to civilization (11 miles away) otherwise known as Rainey's Market. Travis and his family grew up on Evans Creek, and Chloe moved in a few years ago, so the two of them are relatively old hands at this neck of the woods, even though all old timers in the neighborhood agree that the last 3-4 years have been especially harsh winters unlike anyone can remember. That could be age and Alzheimer's setting in, selective memory, the truth of the matter, or some combination thereof.

Anyway, Mike and Bobbie just bought one of the original homesteads on the creek this summer so are enjoying their first winter living out here. And yes, they are definitely enjoying it! I've come to realize that there are snow people and there are sun people. The Rainey's are snow people; Arnie and I are sun people. Mike, and I can't say this with enough gratitude, respect, and appreciation, drives up in the tractor in shorts and a t-shirt. "Anything I can do to help?" he hails. My family humor and bad judgment entices me to ask where his clothes are, as we are both bundled head to toe in every single piece of winter clothing we own. Just one little ray of sunshine, please!!!

After 45 minutes of moving cars, dumpsters, snow shovels, and mountains of snow, Mike saw us to bare gravel with enough room to park both cars and room to walk between each. With a giant grin on his face, he asked if we wanted him to plow the whole road. I shook his hand and said we just couldn't thank him enough for clearing the top of the driveway and that this was more than we could have hoped for. Is there a protocol for this type of neighborliness? Should I have whipped out my wallet and handed him a crisp $100 bill (oh, there wasn't one of those in there anyway)? If I were a good woman, would I have come straight home and whipped up an apple pie for him and Bobbie? Or is it enough to know that I've shopped at there store since they bought it from the previous owners in the '70's? That Arnie, my mom, and I walked from our place to Chloe and Travis' wedding at his family's house? That we're all part of a family of people who have chosen to live in this particular area of the county and that one day we'll help them with something? Are we indebted to them or was this payback for the thousands of dollars of groceries, gas, hardware, and garden supplies we've purchased lo these many years?

I guess popping a thank you card in the mail can't hurt anything.

Who Dreamed of This??

As I get closer to 2009, I'm really trying to have a more positive outlook on life and to remember what the world used to look like through my rose-colored glasses. But since its still 2008 and there is yet another wave of the latest winter storm dumping buckets of snow on our property, I just have to say that neither my husband nor I are the kinds of people who ever, ever dreamed of a white Christmas.

I do know that the Rockies, the entire Pacific Northwest, Midwest, New England, Eastern seaboard, and even the south have been inundated with snow storms. All of which makes me seriously question the validity of global warming. Oh, I know, I know... I should now be referring to this phenomenon as climate change and that erratic weather patterns, such as we all are experiencing are a part of that. But come on... a major blizzard is brewing right outside my window. Not to mention that we have had not less than a foot of snow for nearly two weeks and have long since moved our cars to the top of the driveway and hiked in and out the entire time. Everytime I think I can actually deal with this reality, another storm hits, adding another 3-4" of new snow. And a few more inches of snow seems innocuous until you start adding it up... 4" on Friday, December 12; 6" on Saturday, December 13; a few more inches on Sunday, December 14; a little more snow on Monday, December 15; a little melting on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, December 16-18; another 5" on Friday, December 19; and another 6-7" on Saturday and Sunday, December 20 and 21; and in the past week enough snow and ice and melting and adding resulting in a grand total accumulation of something far exceeding the top of my kneecap. And another 2" as I write this.

I love Bing Crosby but I am pretty sure that I am not the person dreaming of a white Christmas EVER. The snowman I made on Monday is buried in the new snow that fell in the last couple days. How can that be festive? If you're dreaming of a white Christmas, come on over and take as much as you'd like!

Flow Gives Me Gas

It is again that time of year for those of us who like to torture ourselves or, as I prefer to think of it, really like a challenge, to start thinking about New Year's resolutions. I also like to think of myself as a goal-oriented person so have been abiding by this tradition for as long as I can remember. This year, unlike many other years, I'm committed to keeping it simple - two or three resolutions at which I can actually succeed. As one of those nervous nellies who stresses about every little thing in life, not accomplishing what I've set out to do only exacerbates the anxiety level, so choosing my resolutions wisely is important.

And actually at the top of the list is learning to better manage my stress level - go figure. Now, when I talk about stress management, please understand that I have already tried all the usual suspects... yoga, meditation, guided imagery, bubble baths, and deep breathing only stress me out more. One of my very sweet co-workers is always checking in with me about my stress level, suggesting soothing, relaxing things I can do including all the above-mentioned but my all-time favorite idea was when she, a 6'2" tall, thin, all arms and legs kind of woman explained to me that when her stress level reaches unmanageable proportions, she stands on one leg (you have to imagine her demonstrating this), slightly bent, spreads her arms like they are wings, starts flapping them, and repeats to herself "I'm an eagle, I'm an eagle." Yes, I'm pretty sure that will go over well in a meeting with several high-powered executives demanding a full-fledged communications plan by the end of the day.

Another well-intentioned friend gave me a book called "The Art of Doing Nothing" a few years back. She is also the person who tried to teach me about flow, and one day after a long ride through the country with her and her partner, meandering aimlessly in her nephew's convertible Mustang with the top down on a gorgeous summer day, she turned to me and asked what I thought about flow now. I responded, and have used this quote many times since, that flow gives me gas.

Which is about the time when she presented me with the book. I tried, I really tried to read the book, absorb its message, live a more relaxed life. But seriously, the very nature of the title implies some sort of action. The verb "doing" is an active verb, so doing nothing is actually doing something, even if it is sitting (another verb) in a lawn chair staring (verb) off into space. "Practicing" meditation or yoga is again an active verb. "Relaxing" at the beach - again the verb says you are doing something. "Clearing" your mind and "imagining" yourself in another place - active. "Repeating" the mantra "I'm an eagle" is still active.

So, this year, I hope to find some ways to reduce or manage my stress that actually work for me. For now, I'll concentrate on wrapping presents, baking cookies, watching it snow, and driving over the river and through the woods to open gifts with my family.

Healthier, Wealthier, and Wiser

Okay, fish taco in one hand, glass of pinot grigio in the other, and M & Ms in easy reach. My first blog has to be about the fact that I'm not dying of any weird disease of which I'm aware. I just spent the last week researching Wilson's disease and convincing myself that I was lucky to be diagnosed before the copper toxicity reached such a high level that my liver was surely going to fail any moment. I worried about all the shellfish I've eaten in my life. Obviously, the times when I got sick eating lobster were a clear sign that Wilson's was the problem. Other food items on the list to avoid were other favorites - chocolate, mushrooms, nuts, dried fruit. Clearly, I had eaten all these seemingly benign delicacies and was going to have to pay for my sins.

Worst of all, of course, was the fact that I love my glass or three of wine in the evenings. I should have known better.

Anyway, I'm so grateful to be celebrating this holiday season with a non-diagnosis. No Wilson's. No MS. No Lupus (oh, were we screening for Lupus, too??).

So here's to 2009, better health, much more happiness, and renewed hope for the future!