walking on ice the interlude

We new she wouldn't be going anywhere, but we were conquering together. Isn't that what all the great romances are about? Can there be anything more romantic than shoveling your mother-in-laws drive with your wife? I think n n n maybe.

We set off on foot, still wearing my kick'n snow boots, neighbors snow shovel in hand. We don't own one - the temptation to buy one is nearly unbearable. Buying a snow shovel now, all but quarantines Burque from the frozen kind of precipitation.

Some poor saps got to drive in the snow, but probably to work. The calf deep ruts left in the street led the way to our rendezvous. We passed another couple in the throws of passionate shoveling. They were obviously newbies to the couples shoveling scene. Round tipped shovels are just so... polyester, shoulder pads, and bell bottoms. Bad form, Rookies!

We walked. The expected jokes were made by those seeing us with shovel in hand.
"When your done with your yard..."
"Is that a shovel in your hand or are you just glad..."
The interaction, while sterile and predictable, were pleasant. Near neighbors for 6 years, yet never a word spoken, until now.

Do you remember that ride at 'The Magic Kingdom'? You know the one. You sit in the car without parents. There is a gas pedal (I think) and a break pedal(I think). There was definitely a steering wheel but it was all for show. The car disappointingly straddled a concrete guide. If you didn't think to hard you actually thought you were driving.... round and round... Impossible to pass. The ignorance of a six year old is blissful.

The only way to make any progress in the street was to be in the rut. If you weren't in the rut, you weren't moving. If you were in the rut you weren't getting out. Unless, you owned a 4 x 4. The 4 x 4 owners must be feeling really wise.

The creaking rumbling groaning spinning of approaching vehicles was experienced with a different awareness. We were walking in the ruts, the cars were stuck in the ruts. Car and pedestrian sharing the road.

We conquered her drive, and a patch in front of her postbox. I'm still waiting for a thank you letter from the postman. She even took our picture. Homeward, we passed a couple walking while decked in their Aspen finest. They asked if we were being entrepreneurial? I offered to shovel their drive for $425.00.

walking on ice is work

Ala ‘groundhog day’,
Her voice sparkled, “Oh my! It really snowed last night.”
From my horizontal position, the sparkle was enough, I could imagine the snow, I’ve seen it before… Ugh, I need to p.

Whoa! It really did snow, a foot for sure. That’s a lot for Burque. My eye’s twitched in the brightness… It’s beautiful, soft, un-traveled, absent of contrast, perfect, and wet and really heavy to lift. This time it was 7”, well 6-1/2”. The total was almost a foot. My 25’ tape measure caught all the action.

This time, we shoveled together. It was romantic… maybe not at the time, and certainly not like our moon lit walks on the golf course. But looking back and realizing that together we conquered 7 inches of record setting Burque snowfall, and I got to wear my LL Bean snow boots from high school.

She through a snowball at me, I wasn’t surprised. Not that she throws things at me all the time, unless you count M&M’s. She asked for permission. It was cute, not spontaneous but cute all the same. It was permission to have a moment. It was precautionary to avoid burial in our newly erected snowbank.

walking on ice

Time away, time off, a break, the changeup comes as relief for the brain. Sleeping in, no concern for rush hours, 8 AM meetings, or pressing emails. She always gets up before me; maybe it’s just a childhood habit. It takes longer for her to get ready for bed, longer to get ready for the day. She squeals like a little girl when something tickles her mental palette. It’s delightful. I am always amazed at what the trigger might be.

Usually, I feel her leave. The bed doesn’t move; no noise is made. Maybe it’s the loss of warmth. I laid there in her absence, in my sleep induced mental blurriness.

“Oh my!” she sounds like her grandmother.

Her voice sparkled, “Oh my! It really snowed last night.”
From my horizontal position, the sparkle was enough, I could imagine the snow, I’ve seen it before… Ugh, I need to p.

Whoa! It really did snow, a foot for sure. That’s a lot for Burque. My eye’s twitched in the brightness… It’s beautiful, soft, un-traveled, absent of contrast, perfect, and wet and really heavy to lift. I shoveled all 5” of that snow myself. Somehow, I am more of a man for it. Honey, you should feel my bicep. And check my LL Bean snow boots from 15 years ago. Yup, somehow I am really wise for owning them. How cool am I? I can still fit in my snow boots from high school. I guess my feet are the only things that haven’t swelled.

going bald it finally stopped

I had hoped to make some grand correlation between my Christian experience and this 'tale of loss', so to speak. But nothing of great significance has resounded with me. So I will reference an author of great renown.

Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher; all is vanity. Ecclesiastes 12:8

In truth, I classify myself as bald by shaving, I have an abundance of hair on my head. Its quite sparse on the crown but the sides and back are well forested. I choose to be bald to avoid the other category... going bald; I choose to be bald because it gives me choice; I choose baldness because how it makes me feel about how I look; any other reasons just seem like indirect benefits, like haircut cost savings or she likes it that way.

And finally, I wonder, have I chosen to be a Christian for similar reasons; to avoid the other category, because it is a choice I can make, how it makes me feel. And if that is true couldn't the Atheist choose to be Atheist for the exact same reasons?

going bald receding to nothingness

The real issue with going bald has to be the loss of control. One day it was suddenly apparent that the line above my forehead was more of an 'm' than a '-'. I really hadn't thought that option was available. The 'm' became more of a golden arches (McDonald's, for those who missed the reference). Then it finally met up with an 'o' that had been subversively garnering more territory in my blind spot.

Why was hair so attached to self esteem. I made the same mistakes that every other balding man made. Maybe by growing it longer it will cover more territory and it will look like a full head of growth. Informative, yes! Oh the horrors! Which lead to the ever shortening haircut.

4... 3... 2... 1... no guard please... I wonder what a razor cut would look like. Had I just skipped the guard progression and chosen to shave, I might be a hero in my own eyes. But I eased into retaking control of my follicles. Which is probably a good thing, because I wasn't mentally prepared for being the sexy bald guy that I am today. Had I sprung my baldness on the world at once, the ensuing pursuit of the worlds female population would have gone straight to my head.

going bald continues

I tried other shampoos. I think one of them was more of a glue. That was the same product that came with a rubber stopper thingy that was supposed to catch the hairs before they went down the drain. Then you were supposed to count the hairs to see if the glue was actually working.

Being bald has made some things in life really stand out. For starters, my eyebrows. My eyebrows get alot more attention now. Of course they are in competition with the chin shrubbage. Have you ever wondered why bald guys grow goatees, but not beards? It's simple really. The hair above and below the lips make sense, as well as the hair on the chin. It's the sideburns that cause all the confusion. I'm just never sure where they should stop. To high and you start getting the comb over temptation. To low and your just wearing a chin strap. And, now you know.

What do I wash my hair head with? I still use the shampoo, it's no longer about getting the hair clean. Surprisingly, I still use plenty of conditioner. It is fantastic for shaving the stragglers, strays, drought resistant. Just let go man - do you see anyone else standing out here? The rest of your family is down lower on the dome, much lower.

going bald

There is only one thing worse than being bald... going bald!

Nah, there isn't much that bothers me about being bald. Well except for looking at old high school photos. But with that hair style, I probably deserved to go bald. And then there is the lack of options. Left part, right part, no part... well wait I still have that one.

First times seem to be informative and memorable, like the first time my head got sunburned. Informative, yes! Once I got past denial.
Then there was the time that someone took a picture from above and behind me. Informative, yes! Did you know that from the right angle a camera flash can make a person look bald.

I think it was hardest on my mother. She bought my first bottle of Rogaine. Of course she also bought my first jar of 'dippity doo'. Oh man! I really miss the doo. You know, dip your index and middle finger into the jar, scoop out a blob, even it out between your hands, then compress the sides of my head and hold... still holding. Then the curing process with the blow dryer. Oh man! I really miss the blow dryer, ooh and the brush to, that always felt so good on my scalp.