skippy dot net

I woke up late this morning, as I've done most mornings this month. For some reason, I'm having a very hard time getting up and active in the mornings. As usual, I checked my email and scanned Twitter as I ate breakfast. I saw both Naladahc and GigaMatt complain about the ice, and thought somewhat smugly to myself "Thank goodness I'm not driving to work any more!" I hopped into the shower, and promptly forgot what I had read.

After dressing I stepped out onto my front porch, ready to walk to work. I placed my foot onto the first of my porch steps and paused, looking about me. Everything looked damp. "Should I get my umbrella?" I asked myself. After a moment's hesitation I decided no, it didn't look like it was going to rain and I could always hustle to the bus stop if a drizzle started. I removed my left foot from the porch and started to lower it toward the second porch step when my balance shifted and the invisible patch of ice on which I was standing made its presence known to me. I felt that lurching sensation in my stomach as both legs flew out from under me. I threw my hands down behind and skinned the heel of my right hand pretty badly as I slid down the steps to the walkway.

It is not a boast when I say that I don't trip too often. I have pretty good balance, and quick reflexes, so I'm usually able to keep my footing. Last winter I tripped only twice (on the same day, no less!) in all the days I walked to work through the snow and ice.

Somewhat shaken, and worried about the laptop I had in my backpack, I cautiously climbed my porch stairs, re-entered my house, and washed my hands. Thus cleaned up, I approached the porch again, and managed to carefully descend. I got to my sidewalk and took three or four steps before sliding forward again. Thankfully it was purely horizontal motion, and I remained standing. So again I carefully returned to the house.

In a box in my closet, waiting patiently for a day such as this, was a pair of YakTrax Walkers. I used these things only once last year (the day after I fell twice), and they worked admirably. Carefully I put them on while standing on my porch, and then trepidatiously descended the stairs and walked out onto the sidewalk. The coils of the Walkers bit into the ice, giving me a firm footing for my stride. I walked cautiously down the street, gaining confidence with each step. I forced myself to go slower than I thought necessary, just to be safe and not to get over-confident.

The walk to work was uneventful, and I didn't slip at all. Of course, I walked south along High Street and many of the businesses and shops along the way had salted the sidewalk, so the Walkers only provided modest benefit. On several occasions, though, I clearly traversed large sheets of nearly invisible ice. Without the Walkers I'm sure I would have taken another spill.

As I approached the OSU campus, I saw that most of the sidewalks had been thoroughly salted by the University grounds crew. I finally stopped along Woodruff Ave. and removed the Walkers from my shoes, confident that the salted sidewalks would provide adequate traction for the remaining two blocks I had to walk. Almost immediately one of my feet shot out, threatening to unceremoniously introduce me to the ground again. I was able to adjust, and remain standing, but at the expense of pulling the muscles in my back in a weird and entirely uncomfortable way. Rather than do the smart thing -- don the Walkers again -- I proceeded slowly and with great caution until I reached my destination.

If you're looking for a last-minute stocking stuffer for a pedestrian in your life, I can wholeheartedly recommend the YakTrax Walker products!

I was almost four years old during the Blizzard of '78. I don't remember much, other than playing in the snow in our front yard, and mom and dad taking turns using the snow shoes they had once purchased as a souvenir.

We had another blizzard last weekend:

The snow started falling Friday around noon, and didn't stop until Sunday morning. I never bothered to check the snow depth in our yard, other than to confirm that it was about calf-high on me in most places, but I've heard reports between 15 and 20 inches around town. I shoveled the walk Friday evening, and laid down a scattering of salt, to help stave off additional work Saturday morning. Our neighbor was doing the same, and we shared warm conversation between breaks in our labor.

Saturday morning the kids were up and frolicking in the snow almost before I reached the bottom of the stairs. I suited up for the weather, and joined them outside. I shoveled a fresh path along our sidewalk, and neglected completely to dig out the cars from the driveway, before ambulating over to the neighbor's across the street. A collection of kids (most of them kids and grandkids of the neighbor) were collecting at the top of the hill, preparing to turn it into an Olympic-caliber bobsled run!

The kids spent several hours sledding on Saturday, and again on Sunday. A good time was had by all. The entire weekend reminded me why I'm so glad to live in the neighborhood we do, as kids played together, adults chit-chatted, and neighbors helped one another extricate cars, remove snow from porch roofs, and in general helped one another.

It snowed last night, leaving me with a decision as to whether I wanted to walk to work in the cold, or whether I wanted to brave the roads in order to drive to work. I put the question to Tyler, who immediately responded "Walk!" A few minutes later, as I was putting on my shoes, Tyler asked "Where are you going, daddy?" When I told her I was about to walk to work, she said "But I said you should drive!" She kept a pretty straight face, so I'm not sure if she was tricking me or if she had forgotten or had genuinely gotten herself mixed up. She had just woken up when I asked her originally, so she might have still been asleep.

I've walked to work now a fair number of times, through a variety of weather. The worst was the torrential downpour in which I was caught. I was forced to ride the bus, but not until my pant legs were soaked through up to the hip. More than once I've realized about halfway to work that I was under-dressed, and suffered on through the bitter cold.

In a flash of insight this morning, I put on a pair of snow pants we had purchased for the skiing trip we had planned to take in Sweden. What a difference! My legs were warm the entire way to work. Indeed, the entire walk was considerably more comfortable than any previous cold-weather walk I've had so far. I don' t know why I waited so long to put these things on before walking to work.

I stopped at the Cup O' Joe for a large decaf. I've found that the steam from a hot beverage does a great job of warming my face, as well as my insides. Two blocks past the coffee shop, I heard a bird start to sing above me. Almost immediately, the singing stopped, and something streaked down through my peripheral vision. I looked over, and saw a small sparrow lying on its side in the snow. The snow around its head had a small pink stain. The bird was clearly still alive, and it kicked its feet a few times.

I stood, paralyzed, for a few moments before turning sadly to continue on my trek. I wanted desperately to put the little creature out of its misery, rather than let it lie there in pain waiting to freeze to death. Had I shovel or spade or even a big rock I would have decapitated or crushed the bird's head to give it merciful release. I felt worried that stepping on the thing with my shoe wouldn't do the job swiftly enough, and would only hurt it more.

It was an odd experience, and put me in a weird mind as I continued my walk. I still find it hard to shake the image of that little brown body framed in the white snow, its song silenced by the long fall it suffered.