Stuck at Home

Peering out the high window in the back door, the swirling, tumbling curtains of snow blow down off the roof and onto the deck, or what used to be the deck until Mother Nature decided we needed fairly constant reminders of the date on the calendar and provided us with endless opportunities for free, productive exercise on the end of a shovel.  It’s become old hat now, an old tale that we know by heart, we wake and it will be cold; at some point it will snow and before long people will be complaining about the City not clearing the roads quickly enough…

Welcome to January!  Somehow it’s become awhile since we last talked and caught up on things – that’s my fault – distracted by vacation in late November, then the allure of Christmas though this year we hit the road, well air, and spent the Holidays elsewhere hoping to distract and numb the realities of the past year rather than face them head on during a time filled with so many memories of year’s and better times past.  And then this bitter arctic loneliness descended and stayed here as it usually does but not so early, January is one thing, but early December is quite another, and now we find ourselves a week from expecting a groundhog to tell us the forecast.

Good luck with that Phil.

The snow banks beside the driveways have grown to the point where adults can now be lost behind them, children stand in awe and proclaim them sovereign territory, and me? I just keep trying to throw the next shovelful over the top though I know it won’t be long before I’ll need a longer shovel or a better plan.

It’s exam week over at the high school and the prisoners are busy memorizing and copying and finally learning what they should have picked up in the fall, some shooting for the honor roll, some aiming just above the bar of futility, most somewhere in between wishing they had taken better notes or asked the wardens a bit more about linear functions and solving by substitution…

The boy is confident he’ll maintain his A average this term and we’re happy to see he’s become interested in his classes and grades and is putting in effort finally.  School had been (and still is) a social gathering place for him, the lessons and studies from the front of the classrooms distractions from the real world issues of friends and fun and fooling around, but somewhere in the transition to high school he shifted focus and accepted he has ability and can use his powers for good instead of evil, and while it continues to be a work in progress regarding respecting the position of authority leading the class – no idea where he gets that from (guilty as charged -  he really is my son) he is finding that inner drive that will serve him going forward.

Sure wish I knew where my inner drive went.  I think it drove away long ago.

That’s not entirely true.  I blame these last two months and this winter’s weather cycle of bitterly stupid cold.  It’s becoming an annual habit, sucking the life out of me creatively and mentally, leaving me in a disinterested stupor of sorts blindly pushing forward until I catch some traction.  It’s what I know, and what I push against to start every year.  The new calendar doesn’t bring surges of wonder and inspired delight at what might lie ahead, instead I find the first few pages monotonous in their sameness, cold and barren cells waiting to be crossed off an endless list.  

Resolutions?  New beginnings? Changes? Yeah, those will have to wait a few more days until I’m finally able to shake off this slump and start hitting the ball out of the park again.  The bat is heavy and the ball seems to dip just as I swing, never quite on it’s mark, and maybe my back elbow is flying a bit too high as I cock it back…  I know it’s something I’m doing and something I can control – it’s not the pitcher and it’s not the ball – so it must be me.  Getting tired of striking out.  Just gotta keep swinging and trying little changes and then I’ll get a hit.

I’m on the verge of starting round two (or is it round three? Four?) of the renovations to the house, and this time it’s real.  Staring with opening up walls and moving the back stairs to enlarge the kitchen.  But first it’s getting the basement area cleaned out so I can build the bar down there that will function as our kitchen while the upstairs area is torn apart.  It was awhile getting to this point, but Monday the demo bin gets delivered and the sledge hammers come out and we’ll make like Miley on her wrecking ball – though I’ll be fully dressed and there won’t be any licking of anything, and, um, let’s just move beyond that disturbing image, shall we?

So it’s demo, then opening for new stairs, tear out old stairs, build bar area, gut kitchen, move walls, reroute electrical and HVAC, rebuild kitchen, refinish hardwoods, baseboards and trim, paint, bring in new furniture and appliances… and somewhere in all that, remember to breathe, take the boy to and from hockey, enjoy the process and keep you up to date on the way by.

The snow continues to swirl down off the roof and it whistles by my window as it drifts across the yard and over the road, smoothing over the angular banks and leveling off the landscape.  There’s no sense in going out and trying to impose my sense of order to the driveway just yet, Nature’s got her mind made up about what I need today.  She’s in charge.  I just need to relax and let her lead the way, and then she’ll throw me an easy pitch and I’ll get my game back on track, you’ll see.  Somewhere in all the upcoming chaos is my chance; I just need to wait for my pitch.