The Agony And Ecstasy Of Snow Days

 

As a kid, snow days seemed a magical gift. The world was transformed; everything familiar was camouflaged under thick crusts of sparkling snow and all sharp, pointed edges became smooth, rounded domes. 

Getting older, snow days just meant that my car would be filthy with lumpy brown slush glued to its underbelly. But I still remember living in Salida and being in awe one night when I drew back the curtains in the living room to see street lamps illuminating snow flakes as they silently descended from the sky.

Nowadays, snow days come with a whole gambit of tasks. I need to shovel my driveway and stairs and then salt the stairs with ice melt, I need to "suit up" in winter wear when Oli needs to go outside and I need to be prepared to "de-winterize" Oli when we return home. By de-winterize I mean I need to find a way to remove what feels like hundreds, if not millions, of snow balls that have attached themselves to Oli's legs.  

Oli's long, downy fur is a magnet for snow balls. Usually, they are the size of gum balls but this last big snow storm had softball-size globs of snow attaching themselves to my poor dog. I tried to crumble them but they were surprisingly tightly packed. My mother mentioned she used a hairdryer on low heat to defrost Oli in the past so I corralled him into the bathroom and began lightly zapping him with my hairdryer. 

This is a good solution; we had large puddles forming everywhere and Oli loves being hit with warm air from my old, rumbling hairdryer. Still, it takes forever and even when Oli has been defrosted, the whole ordeal starts all over again once he needs to return outside. Luckily, my mother has another trick up her sleeve: cutting up socks that Oli could wear as leg warmers. I am not sure how well Oli will take this but it deserves a shot. 

He might be OK with sporting 80's fashion because while I see snow days as ladling more chores for me to do, Oli is the little kid who rejoices in that magical gift  covering the world. He jumps like a small antelope through the snow, stuffs his face deep into snow piles as if inhaling some intoxicating winter scent or just trots here-there-anywhere-completely giddy with this new white world.