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Jan. 7th, 2005 12:20 amI was so excited to see snow on the ground when my plane arrived in Ohio. A few days later, we got 15 inches of snow within 24 hours. We were always out shoveling, even in the middle of the night because we knew it'd be impossible in the morning, and we'd drop to sleep exhausted. And it wasn't even February.
It was worth it, though. The hardest part is the mountain at the bottom where the snowplow deposits stuff from the street. Amateur shovelers often neglect this crucial area, leaving a quagmire of gray slush right where your car is turning and needs friction the most. We finally dug through it. We even did the turnaround on the side and the path to the front door. Our driveway was beautiful. We all helped. It's a lot easier with five people.
Church rehearsals were canceled because of the snow, so on Christmas Eve I pretty much sight-read my bell and choir parts. (This was the late service, not the afternoon one with the Stampede of Cute.) It's good to know I've still got it. It amazes me that I can walk into a church I haven't seen in a year and people say "Good to have you back" and "Can you sing bass for us?" Sister played a kickass oboe solo. We sang "O Come, All Ye Faithful," but, tragically, we skipped the verse with the word "thither." My face stayed solemn and prayerful during "O Holy Night"; I credit months of listening to Ernest.
More memories from vacation soon.
It was worth it, though. The hardest part is the mountain at the bottom where the snowplow deposits stuff from the street. Amateur shovelers often neglect this crucial area, leaving a quagmire of gray slush right where your car is turning and needs friction the most. We finally dug through it. We even did the turnaround on the side and the path to the front door. Our driveway was beautiful. We all helped. It's a lot easier with five people.
Church rehearsals were canceled because of the snow, so on Christmas Eve I pretty much sight-read my bell and choir parts. (This was the late service, not the afternoon one with the Stampede of Cute.) It's good to know I've still got it. It amazes me that I can walk into a church I haven't seen in a year and people say "Good to have you back" and "Can you sing bass for us?" Sister played a kickass oboe solo. We sang "O Come, All Ye Faithful," but, tragically, we skipped the verse with the word "thither." My face stayed solemn and prayerful during "O Holy Night"; I credit months of listening to Ernest.
More memories from vacation soon.
