Toto, We Aren’t in OZ Anymore

As I write this, I look out my office window at a world that is black and white. Snow has piled up for 3 days now, and any green on the pine and cedar trees is hidden by clumps of snow and the trees themselves are dark brown to black. A photo reveals a white background, broken up by a forest of tall patio umbrellas

There is no sign of this changing anytime soon.

I did not realize how much color mattered to me – until I found myself in a colorless world. Remember in the movie? Dorothy left black & white Kansas and landed in a wildly, intimidatingly, glaring splashes of color world.  I certainly do not want OZ to be my world, but a little yellow and lavender would be nice.

Every weekend this month has been snowy. We- (I say “we” but really it is my hubby Bruce doing the work, because of my health), has gotten a path to the road dug out during the week, only to watch it fill back up on Friday.
This week the storm is throwing snow harder and 24/7. You can no longer see where hubby dug out yesterday so our son’s family could get into the driveway. I think they could be stuck here awhile because the town snowplow only makes it up here every other day. So, even if hubby cranks up the snow-blower – we are stuck in this winter wonderland for the time being.

Church was cancelled this morning. I guess that is common up here in the mountains, but it’s new to me. I got an email from one of the Elders letting me know. God must be OK with it though, since it is His doing. I imagine that even Jehovah likes a snow day – every now and again.  I’m glad I don’t have his job! But I digress…

The kids are so excited about playing in the snow. I don’t play with them because I am recovering from a sinus infection and not too quickly. My cough worries my 2-year-old granddaughter, Mary. Every time I cough, sneeze or blow my nose, she asks, “Are you OK, Grandma?”  Truth be told, the concern on her sweet little face cheers me up a lot.

I sure wanted to be outside with her yesterday when she was struggling to make snow angels. The younger, healthier me would have flung myself backwards into the snow bank and flapped my arms and legs until I sunk a few inches. I felt sad that I did not dare to do it.  She had a blast trying though – which was the point.   

You can’t tell by the photos, but she has a big smile on her face.

After breakfast, this morning, the troops bundled up and attempted to overcome the snow, however the opposite is happening. Mary’s older brother, Aiden, shovels snow to make a path down the slope of the driveway, only to turn around and see the snowflakes piling up behind him. Ten more minutes of that and the snow wins. Time to warm up in Grandpa’s shop (that is equipped with a wood burning stove and a fridge with drinks and snacks. Oh yea, and a DVD friendly TV.) I have not seen the flash of Mary’s bright neon-pink gloves or yellow hat for a while, so I figured that was where they all were.

And the snowflakes keep on coming.

Pennsylvania needs a new groundhog. Punxsutawney Phil is a liar!

 

♥  TTFN  ♥

Strange Talk

Kansas Farmland

My parents both came from families that had many colorful interesting sayings & expressions. My father was born into a Kansas farm family. My mother was born into a West Virginia mountain coal-miner’s family. This makes my sister and I Hickabillies. For some reason we are proud of this.

The other day one of my father’s favorite words popped out of my mouth. I had not heard (or used) it in years. It’s funny how your subconscious mind stores things from childhood that you don’t even know you remember.

did·dly·squat (dĭdˈlē-skwŏtˌ) noun, Slang:  A small or worthless amount.

Origin of word:  Too insignificant to piss on. (I don’t know if that’s true, but it makes sense.)  Used in a sentence:  “I got diddly squat for my bonus this year”;

Dad drove us all crazy with this expression:  “We?? You got a turd in your pocket?” You might be saying “What???” to your screen.  I know, it’s a strange one. It took me months to get it, and  dad had to explain it to me (hey, I was a dumb kid!)

Grandma often hollered at us when we were being rambunctious; “Too much laughing always turns into crying!” Sis and I would just snicker and roll our eyes. And damn it all, she was right. Somehow during our giggling & carrying on somebody got pinched, poked or scraped and ended up crying. One day my sister’s precious Ooffy, her old stuffed dog’s head flew off.  Her scream reached decibels never heard before by human ears. Imagine a couple of screech owls, trapped in a metal barrel. That would have been music.

I remember it like it was last week. A mind-numbing horror to witness, especially for a five-year old. They only way to get her to calm down was promising her  Ooffy would have surgery to re-attach his head and he would be OK. Grandma took headless Ooffy into her bedroom and sewed him back together. Then bandaged him up. Whew! My sister still thinks it was my fault, 45 years later.

Not only was Grandma right, but her words of doom actually came out of my mouth last Saturday when my granddaughters were playing and giggling (quite loudly). They turned to me and said, “What???”  I simply rolled my eyes and said, “never mind”.

Not a minute later both of them were crying.

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photo credit: Stuck in Customs via photopin cc