I’m currently sitting on my porch, surrounded by windows looking out on a snow covered world. After a few desultory flurries in the past few weeks, we’ve finally had our first real snowstorm of the season. It’s been snowing lightly but steadily for 24 hours. The snow has been coming down in a soft, fluffy, silent clouds, with no sign of stopping. We’ve gotten a bit over six inches so far. It’s dry and light but still flocking the trees and the whole neighborhood looks like the interior of a snow globe. I’ve got devil cookies in the oven. This is what winter is all about.
Two days ago, we received an email from Jay’s brother Bob, in Arizona. Bob and Maureen followed two of their daughters south and there are now so many of Pat and Frank Pivec’s descendants living down there they could be their own town if they wanted to incorporate. It would be a great town. Anyway, Bob’s email was a typically brotherly taunt for those of us stuck in the great white north, reminding us to have some empathy for others, as they were now also enduring a cold season, temperatures plunging so low at night as to necessitate the wearing of sweat pants and shirts with sleeves. Poor, poor Bob!
As you can imagine, the Northern brothers did not take that lying down. Brother Tim immediately shot back an email detailing the fun he and his grandsons were having on their snowmobiles.
Jay spent two hours or so, plowing out our driveway, walk and the rest of the block (he’s a much better neighbor than I am) while puffing away on a cigar. I helped for the ten minutes it took me to shovel off our front steps.
Mary Jeanne called to invite me to go for a walk down the parkway, which she described as gorgeous.
To think; all those Pivecs stuck in the desert so far away. Poor, poor Bob!
Saturday, I spent up at Katie’s house, working on the finishing details of the nursery. Katie’s feeling good but she’s so sick of being pregnant. With two in there, she’s looked full term since she hit six months. The last week, a few complications have popped up that may bring the babies’ birthday a bit earlier than anticipated, so there’s not time to waste getting their room ready. I got to feel both Boopity and Boop flamenco dancing against their mom’s belly. So many arms and legs! We made a slip cover for the oversized arm chair in the nursery. We got a ton of work done but haven’t quite figured out how to tailor the arms. We’ll do it, I’m just not sure how yet. Anyway, it was a very fun afternoon, listening to Christmas music, figuring out how to use Katie’s sewing machine and baking cookies. I didn’t mind at all that I was missing UST’s biggest game of the year.
As everyone in Minnesota knows, the St. Thomas/St. John’s rivalry is one of the most intense hatred’s in all of sports. Sure, we’ve also got the Gophers/Badgers, the Vikings/Packers but those team live in Wisconsin, not right up the road and the Badgers and Packers beat our guys all the time because the Goophs and Viqueens stink. It wouldn’t surprise me if the Badgers and Packers don’t even consider their Minnesota adversaries as rivals; more like irritating younger siblings who have to put in their place occasionally. That’s not true of the Tommies/Johnnies match ups. It doesn’t matter what sport it is, when those two teams face off, tempers are high and blood is in the eyes. You’d better get there early or you won’t get a seat. Like Army/Navy, a victory over this opponent is all it takes for a season to be considered successful. National Championship, St. Thomas? Who cares; you better beat St. John’s!
So the Johnnies came to town on Saturday and I skipped it.
Over the years, I’ve always tried to make it to every home game but when there’s a conflict between Jay’s games and anything with my kids, the kids always win. It’s too bad it was the Johnnies I was missing but the Tommies haven’t been playing so great lately. I didn’t mind missing the spectacle of watching the Johnnies beat us on our own floor.
I figured the Johnnies would come to town loaded for bear. After all, they were facing their arch rivals, who also happened to be the reigning National Champions. (I’m going to mention that every chance I get for as long as it’s true because that’s a big honkin’ deal.) I just assumed the Johnnies would be psyched like Berserkers to come down here and take us apart.
As the sun went down and I got no call or text from Jay, I was sure that’s what happened. I got home from Katie’s around 9 at night but instead of Jay still being at work, strategizing and making corrections with JT, planning to avoid future humiliations, I found Jay at home, enjoying a cigar on the porch.
“How did it go?” I asked, willing to be a sympathetic ear.
“We crushed them.” He chortled.
“You what?” I experienced a moment of déjà vu.
“We were up by 25 at half time.” Jay said. “We beat them by 13 but it wasn’t that close.”
Wow!
It’s not even Christmas break yet but we can put the 2016-17 season in the WIN column!
Jay and I celebrated by venturing out in the snow for severely overpriced burgers at a neighborhood place that used to be a Blockbuster video store. The burgers were good but at that price we could have enjoyed tenderloin at home. Jay ordered some wings that were inedible. We won’t be returning there.
The snow continued to drift down all night and through Sunday. We had six inches before it stopped. The world is flocked and gorgeous.
I had a baby shower to go to Sunday afternoon. By spring, we’ll have 5 new members of the Pivec clan. If that’s not a reason to celebrate, nothing is! There were two new babies at this afternoon’s shower, which coincidentally is the exact same number of fender benders I saw on my way to the shower.
I saw a third fender bender on my way home. Getting into even a minor accident is a drag when the weather is warm, I don’t ever want to find out how horrible an experience it would be in a snow storm.
Jay, Zack and I went to the new, experimental 5:30 Sunday Mass at our local church. I really liked it! The music was minimalist: two singers and a guitar. The Homily was amazing. Our priest said he had a homily written for this Sunday but chucked it in favor of simply describing what happened on Saturday.
The church had a reconciliation service on Saturday, with many priests available to hear confessions. I had planned on going myself, but things got in my way and I was unable to make it. Now, I really wish I had.
The second graders in the parish made their first confession at the service, as well. One of the older parishioners, who had been a member of the parish since his baptism there in 1931, came to make his confession. Immediately after he did so, he returned to the pew, sat down and had a massive stroke. The priest rushed to him and administered Last Rites. An ambulance was called and he was rushed to the hospital. At the hospital, his wife asked him if he could see anything and he answered her with his last words: “It’s a beautiful place.”
And then he died.
With a soul freshly scrubbed clean of sin.
My sympathy goes out to his family (lots of kids and grandkids). It’s certainly sad to lose him right before Christmas but that’s the best description of going out on a win that I’ve ever heard!
I’ve known a handful of women who went out to eat with their friends or family and dropped dead right afterwards and I thought that was a great way to go but immediately after confession? Talk about perfect!
I hope I go exactly like that.
But not for sixty years or so.
There’s snow outside, it’s warm in the house and I’ve got devil cookies in the oven.
Life is so good.