"Frozen like a popsicle," is what my little girl likes to say when we open the door and head out into the cold. This week was no exception. On Tuesday we left and were gone for 3 1/2 hours to come home to a driveway covered in snow. As you can see, I got stuck. High centered, to be exact. Thankfully I had one bar on my cell phone and could call my husband to come and rescue me.
But living in any remote part of the world means you have to be prepared. I still had all of our snow gear in the car, and promptly got everyone dressed so we could walk up to the house. The snow came up at least knee high, at some places up to my waist. I couldn't carry both kids through this snow, and knowing my husband was on the way, I trudged through the snow up to the house to get the snow plow. My goal was to get the kids home.
Plowing my way to them, my husband got home to pull out our suburban and finish the daunting task of clearing out all of this new, extra snow.
In reverence to other conversations this week, I think if I had an Indian name it might be "One who pushes snow."
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