Monday, January 05, 2015

Glorious Sunrise; Beautiful Day

The day started with a text message
which arrived as my cat was trying to talk me
into getting out of bed.
I was up earlier.
Crawled back in.
Good morning! Look at this glorious sunrise!
Suggest you have a little preparation at home
in case of surprise snow event.

Glorious sunrise, indeed!
Man, I wish I had a view of it in the mornings.
Sunrise is my favorite time of day.
I got up and checked out my sliver of a view.
Glorious, indeed!
Even just my tiny little sliver of it was so lovely 
through the living room window.
I figured it was just a joke.
A few hours later
right after lunch
the snow started to fall
and it just kept snowing and snowing
until I packed up and left work early
wondering about the roads.
I didn't have to wonder long.
The roads sucked.
The snow was coming down so hard
I couldn't keep my windshield clear.
Ice was building up.
I used my washer fluid.
Now the ice was thicker but
a really really pretty
bright blue.
Finally I had to jump out of the car
while stopped at a light
in traffic
and see if I could snap some of the ice
from my wiper blades.
"SNAP" would be the pivotal word here.
Snap, indeed.
I flicked at the ice on the blade and
S N A P.
and certainly inopportune
considering all the cars around me,
the whiteout conditions
and the thick layer of ice on my windshield.....
all of a sudden I was holding
a wiper blade in my hand.
It was an odd feeling.
I liken it to what one might sense
should one reach out to shake someone's hand
and end up pulling their arm off.
Not a good feeling.
Not a good feeling at all.
I looked over at the guy sitting next to me
in traffic and his eyes
were bugged out
staring at me
not wanting to laugh
at me standing there with my wiper blade
in my hand
and praying
I'm pretty sure
I wouldn't yell
"Help me!"
in his direction.
When the snow is falling
and the wind is blowing
and ice is building up
it's every driver for themselves.
Whatever, dude.
I got this.
I know wiper blades snap back on.
No problem.
I got this.
There was too much ice on the blade
to quickly snap it into place.
The lights were changing.
Traffic was starting to move.
There was no way to keep the windshield clear
no where to turn for help
and I'm not much for crying in traffic
so I got back in my car
and squeezed my brave little Saturn nose up
real nice and close to the truck in front of me.
We were cozy. Really cozy.
Cozy enough
I'm pretty sure my license plate number
is now tattooed on his rear bumper.
All the while he had no clue.
He was none the wiser
of our symbiotic relationship...
a truth which burdens me
with a small measure of guilt
I'm pretty sure
it wasn't nearly as fulfilling a relationship
for him
as it was for me.
That aside.
Thank you big truck
with big taillights
for helping me through the intersection.
I followed you for half a mile or so
until I finally slid onto a side street
and you left me.
After all we'd been through.
I watched your taillights disappear
and ok, I will admit it.
I almost
cried in traffic.
But, nope.
No sir.
You can leave me Mister
but you ain't gonna make me cry.
I had a wiper blade to re-attach.
So I ended up nose-first in a massive driveway
leading to a very large house
in a big neighborhood.
Up the road a US Mail truck
was making its way
box by box by roadside box
inching nearer
with every handful of mail
delivered to a nearby address.
I was a postal carrier for many years!
Fate has smiled down upon me.
A handy automotively-inclined mail delivery fellow
will no doubt
pull up here momentarily
and help me!
Wanting to look proficient and able
I leaned over my car,
ankle-deep in snow
and reached across the hood
to re-attach the blade.
And that's when the connection mechanism
broke into about three pieces
in my hand.
This is not good.
NOT good at all.
(Swearing was becoming an attractive option.)
So consumed was I
in the unfortunate circumstance of the
shattering connector
I failed to notice the mail carrier
exit his vehicle
walk up the driveway toward me
and stand by the opposite side of my car.
I looked up.
He smiled.
I smiled,
already grateful for the good training
afforded him by his dear mother.
My good Samaritan had arrived!
He handed me the mail.
Yeah. He handed me the mail.
And this is where the shameful thing happened.
It did.
I'm sorry.
It shouldn't have.
But it did.
I rolled my eyes.
I can eye-roll right up there with the best of them.
Not proud of it.
Not gonna promise I'll never do it again
I'm a work in progress, you know.
Right there in the snow
I looked into his smiling face
and I gave him my very best
eye roll
and I said
(quite possibly in a sarcastic tone of voice)
"Do I LOOK like I live here?"
Shame. Shame. Shame.
Shame, Debbie. Shame.
He's just a guy trying to do his job.
(Tried to hand off first-class personal mail to a total unidentified stranger
so I'm not saying he was doing his job WELL
but a guys gotta earn a living, right.)
He turned and cut a deep path through the long driveway of snow
to the front door of the house.
As he came back down the drive I immediately found it in my heart
to forgive him the rough start to our relationship.
"Well," I laughed, "I MIGHT have to sleep here
tonight if I can't figure out how to fix this wiper blade!"
Smiling at him
with a big
He smiled back.
He got in his truck and drove away.
Another snowstorm relationship bites the dust.
(Note to self, Deb:
You're going through men today
like a hooker goes through red lipstick.
Make note
to up your
damsel-in-distress game.
It's gonna be a long winter.)
Left to my own devices
shattered wiper connection in hand
I got on my phone and started texting
for possible help.
I did get a couple of interesting, helpful responses.
Mike was no where near and suggested I look up a
windshield wiper attachment tutorial on YouTube.
Ryan was miles away too
but wanted me to know he and his wife just found
the "Free Babysitting" coupon I gave them as a shower gift when
their now-toddler was born and by the way, does this thing expire
and had I heard they were having twins?
I knew Bill was no where near
I just needed the moral support
and I asked him to pray.
That's what I was doing.
I was standing in what was actually
a beautiful snowstorm
in a neighborhood of beautiful homes
and magnificent old trees
looking up through the branches
and asking,
"God, what am I gonna do??"
No way to call road service, it'd be hours.
I couldn't see to drive, the ice and snow kept building up
even as I scraped it off with my glove.
Everyone else was stuck in their own snowstorm trouble.
The snow wasn't going to be stopping until hours later.
It was gonna get dark soon.
"What am I gonna do?"
My reaction to this kinda stuff is always
pretty much the same.
I laugh.
I do.
Ridiculous situations
you'd more likely see on a sitcom
always just make me laugh.
You were standing in traffic
in a snowstorm
and your wiper blade busts off in your hand?
That's funny, right there.
We might be frozen to death by morning
in a strangers driveway
but that is funny.
As I laughed,
all I could think was.....
well girl, let's make MacGuyver proud.
I started plowing through the resources in my car:
Seven Starbucks stir sticks
A spatula.
A bottle of Windex.
 A nice selection of CDs in a variety of musical genres.
A dog bone.
Three Bic pens (medium point)
and a big, long stem of dried switchgrass,
a souvenir from a summer Sunday
road cruise.
And my gloves.
And the rubber handle that slipped off
my snowscraper, last storm.
I know it looks like I ran down Mickey Mouse
but that's my glove
stretched over the rubber handle of my ice scraper
and squished onto the little
of my windshield wipers.
I got back in the car
said another prayer,
pushed back into traffic
in the direction of a service center
just a couple of miles down the road.
Somehow my little glove had a mind to be helpful
stepping up to the snowstorm plate,
cutting the tiniest swath of a peep hole
in the windshield ice,
allowing me to see
I barnacled us onto yet another truck in front of us
trusting him to make tracks I could follow
and before too long
I was turning into the service center.
My hands were so frozen
I could barely turn the door handle
but darn if the first thing I saw
when I walked into the little office
was a wiper blade display!
Smiling to greet me was Trent
whom I immediately adopted as one of my sons
promising birthday gifts and invitations
to Christmas dinner until the day I die.
He sold me blades.
And he put them on my car.
(Take THAT, post office mail guy.)

Thank you God, for keeping me safe.
Thanks to my dear ones
for being there when I reached out with text my messages.
And thank you Trent
for welcoming me into a warm little office,
for laughing with me
and helping me find my way safely home.

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