Certainly NOT Mr. Rogers ...

Spring in MT comes with at least one bout of teasing warm weather during which I dream of warm summer nights, flip flops, brown skin and backpacking. And that bout is followed shortly thereafter by cold weather and snow, snapping the nervous system back to the reality of at least 6 more weeks of winter no matter what Mr. GH says. Yesterday was the snap back to reality.

The tempurature wasn't unbearable but the snow came down for what seemed like days and days. But in reality, there were only hours and many inches to count: 7 inches where I live. It was the kind of dump only skibums and grooming machines dream of! It stuck to the road, to the trees, to the top of my car, even to the top of my Boss' head as he walked across the street from the Capital. I would have loved every minute of it had I not experienced a panic attack about making the drive up to my house after hours of record-breaking falling snow.

I went home for lunch yesterday and had to attempt 2 times to make it home. And then I stupidly turned back around and went back to work. As I got closer and closerto work and my wipers couldn't keep up with the accumulation, I got more and more panicked about the drive back to my house after the days end, in another 4 hours and another 4 inches. I walked into my office, gathered up some work and walked right back out to my car to head home.

On the drive back to my house, I had to attempt 4 times to make it up the hill. Each time I made it a little further and then spun my tires and ended up back down the hill sliding backwards the whole way. The third and almost final time I got stuck in the middle of the hill. As I spun and rocked and spun and rocked ON A HILL, I plead with my little car to go just a liiiiiiiiiittle farther. It didn't. And while I plead and urged my little car, my neighbor walked out of his house and looked right at me in that compromising predicament. I felt a sense of relief because all I really needed was a little push to make it over that last little hump. My neighbor walked to his big fat gas-sucking ugly asstruck, backed it up, turned around and MANEUVERED AROUND MY STUCK CAR to pass and go down the hill. Didn't even pause.

I ended up back down the hill and tried one more time swearing the whole way. I think the sheer weight of my anger and frustration put more traction on the tires and I finally made it; 35 swear words later, I was at home. And two hours later, the snow stopped and the sun came out.

And it was beautiful. No thanks to my neighbor.