All That Jazz

Throughout my entire childhood, I never had a single pet.  That can happen, pretty easily, when your dad is allergic to cat and dog hair.  Right there, most of the typical animals are ruled out, and you’d have to imagine that any more obscure mammals would induce a similar reaction.  So you start to look a little lower on the food chain.  My brother had a few gerbils at various times, and my sister currently keeps a rather charming rat, but I never really had much interest in the rodents.  There were also the times we kept Praying Mantises, and the Madagascar Hissing Cockroach, but it’s hard to really make a connection with an insect.

When I was in my pre-teen years, I decided that I wanted an aquarium.  There was no way fish could bother my Dad’s allergy, and I figured a few fish would be pretty interesting to have.  I asked for an aquarium for my birthday, and I distinctly recall making a sign that said “Aquarium coming soon!” but for some reason or another it never happened.  Not sure if it was concern with water spills, fishy smells, me being responsible enough, or something else, but regardless, I didn’t end up having a fish.  Or any other pet, for that matter.

After Stacia and I met, that didn’t change, initially.  Living in the dorms, or in a college-town apartment just didn’t seem conducive to keeping an animal, and I personally didn’t have any fond memories to hearken back to, to make me want one.  Things started to change one time while we were visiting Edgewood, Stacia’s hometown.  We were spending some time out on her Dad’s land, where there were some cats roaming around.  (Apparently this is commonplace on farms – non-pet cats just roam about the place, fending for themselves and whatnot.  I know, I had no idea either.)

Well, this really cute farm cat wandered up and started acting like he/she (?) wanted attention, so I started petting it, and eventually picked it up and held it in my lap.  He/she purred and acted so sweet and content, that Stacia’s Dad offered to send the cat home with us.  Aside from the fact that we didn’t know anything about it (health, spay/neuter, pests, etc), we also decided we weren’t ready to keep a pet.  We declined, but the seed had been planted.  Over the next several months, we made surprisingly frequent trips to the local pet store to look at the adorable kittens, and I started to come around to the idea.

We did all our internet research on keeping cats, and decided we should adopt one from the Animal Rescue League.  We even made a spreadsheet of all the cats at the ARL, to help us choose.  Then, over the long Labor Day weekend (1 year, 4 months ago, making this a very dated article), we stopped by to see a calico cat named Ivy, and fell for her.  She was so timid, even hiding beneath the shelves at the store when we let her out, but very cute.  We filled out the paperwork and took her home.

It soon became clear that Ivy wasn’t really a fitting name for this cat.  We got her home, let her out of the carrier, and allowed her to become accustomed to her new home.  Unlike the shy, reserved cat she had been at the ARL, she methodically stalked through the rooms of the condo, acquainting herself with everything without any fear or significant hesitation.  That first night she did keep us up a bit with some yowling and meowing, but thankfully it didn’t last too long.  Soon, demure little Ivy was a thing of the past.

In short order, our cat was transformed into an assertive and confident but fun and kind of crazy little animal who knew that she was the real head of the household.  For a while we struggled with an appropriate name, but ended up hitting the nail on the head.  Roxie, the spunky, poised entertainer from Chicago would be our cat’s namesake.  Our Roxie is fun, but definitely doesn’t take crap from anybody.  And she certainly is entertaining.  She’s a great cat that makes me glad we got a pet.

One small problem.  Our little girl has recently become, well, not so little.  It’s one of those things where, if you see something every day, you don’t notice small changes, but someone who only sees it at larger intervals sees the change right away.  For example, I never know my hair is getting long, since it grows so little each day that it seems the same as the last day.  But all I need to do is go home ;) and someone will surely point out how shaggy I’ve become.  In a similar manner, Roxie put on 4 pounds in a year.

When we found this out, we made some quick changes to try to reverse the trend.  We started decreasing the amount of food Roxie got, then all-out switched to a weight-loss food, but nothing seemed to work.  She maintained her weight, didn’t get any bigger, but she couldn’t seem to work off what she’d gained.  What to do?  Well, we knew she was pretty lazy during the day, just sleeping and eating, and we don’t always have time to play with her as much as we should in the evening, so she probably wasn’t getting a ton of exercise.  But we could change that… with a kitty treadmill!

Just kidding.  I hope those don’t exist, but you never know.  In reality, the solution to our cat problem is to get another cat!  With someone new to play with, Roxie should theoretically be more active during the day, and if nothing else, she’ll have more stimulation and company while we’re gone.  As I write this, we are getting ready to head out to the ARL to bring home the little black-and-white cat we’ve had our eye on.  Her name is Rachel, but we’re going to call her Velma.  I think the show will be better with two.

From G's to Chefs - Taking Stock

I came by blogging in a rather roundabout way.  It all started about four years ago when Stacia heard about David Bach’s finance book Smart Couples Finish Rich, and decided we should read it.  We did, and we became interested in getting a better hold of our money.  That led to different books, a mini seminar at the bank, and eventually, personal finance blogs.  We followed these religiously for a few years until we both simultaneously but separately decided we’d heard it all, had absorbed some good money habits and would move on.  I started my own blog about nothing, added cooking later on, and have been pretty happy since.

But there was one thing that I liked a lot from the personal finance realm, and the season makes it even more pertinent – the new year’s goal.  PF bloggers are quick to point out that these are different from the commoners’ resolutions, in that they have actual measurable targets rather than obscure and often unattainable desires.  Whatever you call them, and as cliché as it is to start them on January 1^st, I thought I’d try my hand at making some goals this year.  Unfortunately, that also means you’re going to have to read about them.

Before I launch into what I want to achieve this year, let’s look back at last year to see what progress I’ve already made.  2009 was the first year of this blog, which I started in the hopes that I would someday become a creative writer.  I flailed at that, struggled to come up with post topics, until I realized that for me, writing was a secondary pursuit to cooking.  Once I started writing about cooking, it seemed I could churn out a post for every meal if I wanted to, and I never really looked back.  It surprises me to look at where I am, knowing what I want to do, and realize that it was only earlier this year that I even settled on cooking as a hobby, or more accurately a passion.

Other highlights of the year lie in a similar vein to that discovery.  I learned about sustainable food and put a new focus on shopping at the Des Moines Farmer’s Market.  I threw out my old inhibitions and found that there were many new dishes that I liked, from chicken curry to snails (deserving of their own post, which may be forthcoming).  I held back my initial squeamishness and learned new techniques, starting with such simple things as handling raw meat, and ending up cleaning sardines for a dinner.  At the end of the year, I don’t feel like much of an expert, but I look back at all that was new to me in the past year, and I can’t help but be a little proud.

New really is the key word in that last paragraph.  As I transitioned from prepared-food fan to Stacia’s sous chef to someone who actually might know a thing or two about cooking, each step required taking a deep breath, and trying something new.  And with so much more to learn, I plan to head into 2010 with the overarching goal to surround myself with as much new information or instruction as possible.  People often say the first step is the hardest, and maybe it was, but without taking other steps after it, you aren’t likely to get anywhere.  So here, finally, are the specifics of my goals for the year.

1)      Keep up the meal plan – Ok, this one isn’t new, but it is revised.  At the end of each week, I make a plan for the following week’s dinners, consisting of one each of: red meat, white meat, seafood (alternating oily and non-oily), vegetarian, and one wild-card from any one of the categories.  The rest is made up of leftovers, dining out, and occasional quick and easy prepared food.  In 2010 I plan to make a point to do this every week.

2)      Gain exposure to other new ideas – I’ve written before about my mixed feelings on dining out, but recent events have pushed me a bit toward the positive side.  The Des Moines Register put out a list of the top 100 restaurants in town, and I couldn’t check off more than a handful that I’d been to.  If these top chefs in town have new ideas or preparations that could inspire me, I should give them a try.  In 2010, I want to dine at one or more of the restaurants from that list each month.

3)      Learn new techniques – This is really the most important.  In Des Moines, the Kitchen Collage downtown and the Williams-Sonoma at the mall both offer periodic technique classes.  I took a knife skills course at Kitchen Collage and learned more about cutting and chopping than I had from any other source.  And the Williams-Sonoma ones are free!  If I work on knowing essential techniques, I am sure to become a better cook.  In 2010 I will keep abreast of the class calendars and go to as many offerings as possible.

4)      Learn to make something right – I know how to follow a recipe, and I know a few basic techniques.  But what separates me from a real cook is my inability to craft my own recipe-less meals.  Getting there requires a lot of experience, and probably just giving it a try.  But my plan to become less apprehensive about it is to choose one dish that I will research, find recipes for, find their common threads, and really learn how to make it from scratch.  In 2010 I want to do this for one “classic” dish per month.

That’s all I have formally for right now.  There could certainly be late additions, and if you have any suggestions, I’d be open to hearing them.  Naturally, I also plan to try new recipes at home and new menu items out as much as possible, but that’s more a mindset than a definitive goal.  Overall, I think these goals are manageable, and if I manage to achieve them consistently, I may be able to learn even more this year than I did last.  They are big plans, but they are exciting to me, and I can’t help but feel curious about what I’ll post next year at this time, as I keep moving forward.

December Film Festival

Just as a refresher, back at the beginning of the month I decided to work my way up the AFI 100 Years, 100 Movies lists (both editions), watching about five classic movies a month until I reach what should be the best movie of all time.  Well, now it’s the end of the month, and I’ve made it through the first five.  Things went remarkably well, actually, and I saw all that I had planned to.  Here are my thoughts on the first five, ranked from worst to best.

5) Unforgiven (1992) – I had already seen this, since it was given as part of a 2-pack of DVDs for a Christmas present one year.  Neither Stacia nor I liked it at all, but then I had to go and start this new list, so I had to watch it again.  Not a lot better the second time.  First, it’s a Western, which I don’t usually love, but I probably could have gotten over that.  What I couldn’t get over was how long and boring it felt, with the same things repeated over and over again.  I get that it was made to be the kind-of anti-Western, showing that it wasn’t all gunfights and excitement, but by about halfway through you are willing Clint Eastwood on to get to Big Whiskey (no joke) and start killing bad guys already.  On the plus side, some of the wild west scenery was pretty and well-photographed.  Also, there’s the possibility of a fun drinking game, taking a drink every time Clint Eastwood says, “I ain’t like that no more.”  But aside from that, I probably would never watch this again.

4) Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942) – To be fair, I didn’t see this all the way through, thanks to the crappy condition of the Clive Library’s copy, and the fact that they are the only metro library to hold this movie.  What I did see seemed okay, but not spectacular.  It’s a biopic of George M. Cohan, who apparently was some sort of singing, dancing, acting entertainer-guy.  Maybe his life got more interesting down the line, but in the part I saw it was basically a recounting of his family moving to a town, performing a show, moving to a new town and repeating.  There was some nice stuff about his family supporting him (morally, not financially) and hopefully the later songs got better so they were entertaining.  It’s hard for me to judge, since I missed so much of the movie, but I didn’t really get emotionally invested in the part I did see.  I’ll probably have to try to find this again so I can feel good about crossing it off the list without an asterisk.

3) Ben-Hur (1959) – This was actually better than I thought it would be, and only ranks third because the other two were very good.  It’s over three hours long, but once I started watching, I went the whole way through, which surprised even me.  Being an epic, lots of stuff happens, from the Romans first arriving in Judea to being a galley slave to Rome back to Judea to chariot races, with a little bit of Jesus thrown in.  Since there’s so much story, you are kept hooked even though there’s not a ton of emotional depth (note that I am not religious, so ymmv).  Oh, and the chariot scene is awesome.  I know that it’s the one thing Ben-Hur is known for, and deservedly so.  It’s about 10 minutes of insane action and death-defying stunts that are essentially the thing to watch the movie for.  I’d recommend seeing the whole thing to really get the backstory as to why the chariot race is so important, but that scene is really where you get your money’s worth.

2) Toy Story (1995) – How much fun was it that Toy Story showed up on my list?  A ton, that’s how much.  I’m sure you’re familiar with this one, so I won’t needlessly bore you with plot, but let me just say that for the most part, this movie holds up very well.  Stacia and I were laughing aloud on more than one occasion at the pun-ny jokes and great sight gags.  Toy Story really defined the genre in terms of CGI movies, and also the kids movie that adults will enjoy too.  The story is clever and well-paced, with nicely distributed sentimentality and humor.  After 14 years, the CGI effects are looking a little dated; things are too shiny and the humans are just damn creepy looking.  But this is a modern classic.  I can’t imagine having kids without them seeing Toy Story sometime.

1)  Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner (1967) – Top movie of the first month, and there’s a lot to like about it.  The subject matter (interracial marriage), though less shocking than in the 1960s, offers insight into prejudices and human behavior that are still pertinent today.  Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn are spectacular together, and bring their real-life love for one another to the film as caring parents faced with a difficult situation.  Sidney Poitier, in one of his early roles, exudes grace and charm as the source of the “problem.”  And the writing is great – each main character has a speech at some point in the movie that epitomizes and defines who they are.  Tracy’s in particular, at the end, is hard to watch with a dry eye, especially knowing this was his last film, and the relationship he and Hepburn had in real life makes it even more poignant.  The more I think about it, the more I like this movie, and it seems unjust that it is ranked #99.

So there they are.  The first 5 out of 123, if I remember correctly.  Already one film has made it to my mental list of movies I love, and there are certainly a lot more to go.  Here’s what I have to look forward to in January.

97(1) – Bringing Up Baby (1938)

97(2) – Blade Runner (1982)

96(1) – The Searchers (1956)

96(2) – Do the Right Thing (1989)

95(1) – Pulp Fiction (1994)

95(2) – The Last Picture Show (1971)

Belated Happy Holidays!

I'm a little late, but I hope everyone had a great Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, winter solstice, or whatever you might have been celebrating!  I was with my family, so I had way more important things to do than blog.  Best wishes for a Happy New Year!

O we will fight, fight, fight for Iowa State...

I originally intended to post this column last week sometime, but then something unexpected came up: Christmas.  I’ll try to write a real Christmas-themed column in the upcoming days, but somehow last week arrived and I came to the abrupt realization that I had less than two weeks to figure out what the heck I am doing for the holidays, do all the Christmas shopping, and get the house cleaned up so our catsitter doesn’t think we’re a bunch of slobs when she shows up.  So, imagine, if you will, that it is December 13^th instead…

December 13^th finds us in the car on Interstate 80, just east of Omaha.  There’s a duffel bag of clothes in the back, along with a cooler of Whole Foods goodies (that you may have heard about), and we are just settling in for the two hour drive back to Des Moines.  The roads are fine now, but it is still just days after the biggest snowstorm in thirty years, so there was some question as to whether conditions would be suitable for travel when we left.  So just what was it that caused this pilgrimage to Omaha?  To answer that, we have to look back further, about four years ago.

It’s a crisp fall day, or maybe it’s a blustery cold Iowa day, or perhaps even one of the freakishly hot sunny days that arbitrarily pop up in September and October here in the Midwest.  The point is, I don’t exactly remember the weather, but I do know exactly where I was.  Jack Trice stadium, with Stacia alongside, cheering and shouting (most likely in vain) for our Iowa State Cyclone football team.  Of the six years that I lived in Ames, only one was spent without season football tickets, and we made it to nearly every game.

So there we were, enjoying the cool air, or huddled together for warmth or sweating like crazy, when an announcement was made on the giant videoboard.  Anyone with a football ticket for that day was invited to the ISU volleyball game that followed at the nearby Hilton Coliseum.  Stacia was fairly excited, as she had played volleyball in high school.  I was fairly confused, as I had no idea Iowa State even had a volleyball team.  But hey, I was an open-minded college kid, so why not give it a try?

We got inside and sat down, amongst a strangely disparate crowd of older folks and frothing superfans, as well as a few students like us who looked just a bit lost.  The first set started, and I thought, hey, this is pretty exciting.  I started asking Stacia all sorts of questions about the rules, and also started getting into cheering the team on.  I can’t recall if the team won or not that day, but I remember being astounded at the athleticism needed to play this sport, and walked away having enjoyed the experience as much, if not more than the football game we’d just come from.

Over the next few years in Ames, we made it to several volleyball games a year, and gradually became more knowledgeable about the nuances of the game.  I started to grow less excited about the commercialized, big-business football team, and shifted my focus to the raw emotion and talent on the volleyball court.  We eventually moved down to Des Moines, and due to schedules and travel times, missed all but one game this season.

We did follow the team online, and knew they were pretty good, so we weren’t shocked that they made the NCAA tournament.  What was interesting was that ISU was selected to host the first and second rounds.  It was a quick consensus that since we’d hardly seen any volleyball this year that we should darn well make it to the tournament rounds.  Forty minute drives back and forth on Friday and Saturday were well worth it to see ISU decisively beat George Mason and Wichita State.  The team was on to the quarterfinal rounds.

Which were in Omaha, interestingly enough.  A short two hour drive from Des Moines.  As we drove home, relishing the win over Wichita State, the same thought occurred to the two of us: let’s just do it.  Let’s follow the team on the road, and cheer them on.  After all, they were facing Nebraska, the local favorite and a national powerhouse, so they could use the support.  Within an hour of arriving at home, we’d ordered tickets and booked a hotel on Priceline.  We were on the road to Omaha.

 Omaha was good, and also not so good.  Taking an arbitrary vacation on less than a week’s notice – good.  Getting a 4-star hotel in downtown for less than $50 a night – way good.  The smoked gouda-pale ale soup at Upstream Brewery in Omaha’s Old Market – quite good.  And being there to see the Cyclones play volleyball for the last times in 2009 was great.  Unfortunately the game didn’t go as planned, and ISU got swept by Nebraska.  But through it all, we had a blast.  We were an island of cardinal and gold in a sea of Nebraska red.  When our band played the fight song, we were the only two in our section standing and loudly singing along.  We cheered every Iowa State point and yelled encouragement until our voices were gone.  It was awesome.

Omaha was nice to us, too.  With Nebraska fans all around us and their team utterly dominating ours, they could have been mean or spiteful or even snarky, but everyone we talked to was polite.  We went to the second game of the series, where Nebraska eventually lost to Texas, and it was fun, but without a side to root for it wasn’t quite the same.  We drove home, having spent a very pleasant weekend in a nice city, and even though our team lost, we were there to let them know we had their backs.  With the 2009 season at a close, we studied our roster and saw we had a lot of returning team members, a good sign for a solid 2010.  And based on the last few games we’d seen, we vowed that we would be back for many more games in the upcoming year.

Congrats and good luck next year to the Iowa State Cyclone volleyball team!

From G's to Chefs - One Fish, Two Fish

Stacia pulled the car into a snow-piled parking spot, nosed in toward a three foot drift, shifted into park, and turned off the engine. We were now 137 miles from home, halfway across town from the reason we’d even traveled in the first place, and we were about to see one of the best things in the city of Omaha: Whole Foods.

Just inside the front door was the produce department, which left us flabbergasted. There was more variety of fruit and vegetable than we’d ever seen in one place, many of which we’d never even heard of. And there was so much of everything, with numerous employees moving along the displays removing anything that wasn’t of utmost freshness. For a time we simply wandered through, pointing at fruits and vegetables and making oohing and aahing sounds.

After a while, we made our way back to the fish counter, which was my main motivation for going in the first place. I’m very big on sustainable food, much of which is easy to come by in Iowa by shopping directly from the farm for produce or meat. However, fish is pretty darn tricky, and you’re pretty much stuck with whatever Hy-Vee carries, sustainable or not (much of it is, but they could definitely do better). Following some serious browsing and deliberation amongst ourselves, we made our selections. Tacking on some produce and grocery items, we paid and headed out.

We’d thought ahead enough to bring a cooler along for the weekend, so we packed the fish and produce on ice and started the journey back. Once home, we froze what we could, put the rest in the fridge, and made plans to start utilizing the rest that night, before it started to spoil. It was, then, no surprise when at 5 o’clock I found myself staring down four whole, fresh sardines.

I’d never even eaten a sardine before yesterday, much less cleaned one, but hey, that’s what they invented the internet for, right? I found a sufficiently graphic website illustrating the process, laid down some newspapers, grabbed a sharp paring knife, and prepared to be entirely grossed out. But you know what? Well, I won’t lie, it actually was pretty nasty. :) I won’t go into too much detail, but the general procedure was as follows.

Chop off the head, pulling away with the knife to bring along some of the guts. Slit the belly and scrape out the remaining innards. Butterfly the fish flat, grab a hold of the tail and pull on it to lift out the entire backbone. Grab the skin and pull/scrape it off the rather small remaining fillets. Finally, hand the finished fillet to a disgusted-looking wife to rinse off and lay on a plate ready for cooking. Oh, and sardines are an “oily fish,” so this is all done with a slippery fish fillet, for added fun.

Now, if that sounds disgusting, it kind of is, but I am usually the first to get grossed out or queasy from something, and I was able to do all four fish. As Stacia said, she doesn’t mind if it looks like an animal, or if it looks like food, but she doesn’t want to be involved in the conversion process. Well, I converted four sardines, and after close to an hour of cleaning, we were left with 8 tiny fillets.

The recipe we used was pretty basic, a simple homemade tomato sauce, the sardines on top, bread crumbs on that, a few herbs, and a drizzle of wine, baked in the oven. We made some pasta to serve it on as a way to stretch it, but these were sardines we’re talking about, so it didn’t make much. When the kitchen timer finally chimed, we dished up a small amount of spaghetti, placed the essentially breaded sardines on top and garnished with the sauce. We then sat down and apprehensively stared down our first-ever sardine meal.

You know what the funny thing is, after all that work? When we tasted the dish, it really wasn’t too distinctive, one way or the other. I had no idea going in if I’d like sardines, but I thought for damn sure I’d have an opinion about them. I mean, they tasted fishy, I guess, but it wasn’t like salmon, or cod where there’s a unique flavor to the meat. I was fully prepared to love or hate sardines, but I was left thinking, “well, that’s okay.” Not quite what I expected.

Naturally this makes it hard to recommend using sardines in more food. They are abundant and caught in a way that doesn’t do much damage to the environment or harm to other species, so it’s a good choice for the planet. But it’s a whole lot of work to go from whole fish to fillet to dinner, and there’s not a lot of reward, flavor-wise for all the effort. I think sardines have a bit of a stigma from years of being a poor man’s food, in the little cans, so I feel compelled to defend them a little, but like their flavor, they don’t make a strong case one way or the other.

So, what did I learn from the sardine cooking adventure? For one thing, the closest ones are in Omaha, which isn’t exactly trivial. They aren’t my new favorite food, but I won’t need to feel frightened of them in the future. And, if it’s absolutely necessary, I can clean a fish without puking. That’s something I didn’t know before. Hopefully it doesn’t come in handy too often, though.

Blizzard '09 - thrills, excitement, terror, inactivity!

I have a distinct and mildly horrifying memory from my youth imprinted on my brain that I remembered yesterday.  Don’t worry, that first line is almost entirely hyperbole, but it did leave an indelible enough mark that I can picture the entire thing even though it must have been close to two decades ago that I first saw it.  And yesterday, when blizzard ’09, the storm of the century, hit, that memory thankfully left me inside with a cup of coffee in my hand rather than outside with a shovel.  And just to be more melodramatic about it, I won’t tell what this is all about until at least halfway through the post.

People are often skeptical of meteorologists, and on Tuesday night, it didn’t look like the storm was going to be too bad.  There was snow, but not too much yet.  Well, Wednesday came, and it was all that the newscasters had claimed.  Accumulated and blowing snow had formed multiple-foot high drifts across our street.  The parking lot was impassable, blanketed by a waist-high sea of white.  The howling winds had blown a mound up to the door of our building, leaving only a narrow passage out to the garage areas.  And they weren’t done yet, throwing so much snow about that we could scarcely see across the street at times.  That, coupled with WHO’s announcement that my work was cancelled, convinced Stacia that she shouldn’t chance it, and we took a snow day.

The day was, actually pretty great.  We had plenty of food in the house, so there was no need to venture out.  We brewed a pot of shade-grown coffee, toasted up some English muffins, and wrapped ourselves under a blanket to watch mindless TV for a little while.  After a little bit of this, we started to move about – Stacia knitting as I watched an old movie, when Stacia spotted a truck stuck on our street.  We immediately went to the windows to watch.

At first we didn’t see anybody about the truck, so we ignored it, assuming it had been abandoned.  Maybe an hour later, though, two people were outside it with a snowblower, gas can and a pint of oil, apparently intending to dig themselves out.  Unfortunately, it seemed neither had used a snowblower before, because they were out there reading the instruction manual as they went, and really struggling to make any progress clearing the snow.  I felt bad for them, but I’ve never used a snowblower before, either, so I wasn’t sure there was much I could do to help.  With a little bit of sympathy, we retired from the window and made some lunch.

A few hours passed.  We checked in from the window on and off with the truck people, increasingly pityingly, but again without much we could do to assist.  Then Stacia shouted from across the condo “There’s someone coming!”  I rushed to the window in time to see a GMC Yukon barreling down the road, while the truck people fruitlessly waved their arms to warn of the huge drifts.  What followed was like something from a movie: the Yukon raced down the street, right into a four-foot snowdrift!  A giant cloud of powder blasted out and the Yukon stopped immediately.  We now had two vehicles stuck in the snow in front of our building.

As we stood there in awe, we began to wonder more if there was anything we could do to help.  We discussed it, and finally decided we couldn’t, for three reasons.  1) Everyone had been told all day not to be out traveling.  The only places these people could reasonably be headed to on our street are the mall or nearby stores, so I doubt it was any sort of emergency besides a shopping one.  2) There was no way these people were going to get out.  Maybe if it had been a little bit of snow like a normal snowstorm, they might have stood a chance.  But come on, the plows weren’t even out at this point, there were tow bans, and the cars were stuck in drifts higher than my waist.  Even if we’d tried to help, we wouldn’t get anywhere.  And 3).

3) is a movie we were forced to watch in elementary school.  Ostensibly it was a winter safety video, but it was really creepy.  The one part I remember in detail showed a kid getting out from the bus and climbing atop a drift to wave to his friends inside the bus before it pulled away.  Then the child slipped down the embankment beneath the bus, which then pulled away, not seeing him there.  It wasn’t too graphic, but geez, what a thing to show a 7-year old!  In a sense it worked, since I’ve always been careful on slick surfaces and around large vehicles, but maybe there was a less traumatic way to show it!

So when I looked out the window and saw these drivers throwing their cars rapidly from drive to reverse and back, spinning their wheels at high speeds, I wanted nothing to do with being in front or behind them pushing, in the off chance they did gain any traction.  With a little bit of a feeling that we were somehow bad people, we became gawkers instead, watching their (lack of ) progress from the safety and comfort of our condo.  The two vehicles exhibited varying degrees of dedication, but in the end, neither could get out (told you so) and they gave up to head to the mall or a hotel.

I still feel like a bit of a jerk for not helping, but all seems to have worked out.  As of this morning, the cars are out, so once the plows began to run and the winds died down, they were able to recover their vehicles.  And as we were leaving home today, a neighbor was stuck in our lovely, still unplowed lot, but in a spot with only in a few inches of snow.  We were able to push him out, since we weren’t attempting the impossible, and there was almost no chance of getting run over.  Maybe that makes up for the others, karma-wise.

So at the end of blizzard ’09, we had done as we were told: staying inside, not traveling, and you know what?  It was a great snow day.  Relaxing, warm, comfortable, and Stacia, Roxie and I got to spend a peaceful and lazy day together.  Beats being in the office anyday.