Since We've No Place To Go...

I can remember virtually every major snowstorm of my life, maybe with the exception of 1982 because I wasn't even crawling yet, but THIS joker outside my apartment right now is serious business. I had a very busy Friday as I had two events for work at the opposite ends of two counties. Somehow I made it to both on time and before the snow got really bad, so I've spent today watching TVOne's Unsung series on YouTube (I wish they'd put those joints on DVD for crying out loud) and taking an itis-induced nap.

Snowstorms are always helpful if you have companionship, but since I don't have that, I've spent this Saturday catching up on some much needed rest, maybe overeating - wait, DEFINITELY overeating - and just chilling, trying to keep warm. Overlook the oxymoron-ness of that last statement if you will.

It's been interesting living in this part of Maryland because folks were literally buying out the stores like a Nuclear war was starting. I traipsed through Wal-Mart rather calmly, picking out some random food items while people were rushing through the aisles, snatching stuff up like Bobby Brown at a crackhouse. Eh, snow is snow. It melts eventually. Makes communiting a b-i to be sure, but it melts. I just love the sheer beauty of everything being covered in snow, especially when it's falling from the sky.

I was coming out of Wal-Mart last night when I remembered how we used to play football and street hockey in the snow when were younger, my friends and I. There was always some convoluted reasoning and ruling as for football we didn't have yard markers or anything, so 10 steps from the line was a first down. I remember one particular game we were playing and we had a long drawn out play that eventually saw me catch a screen pass horizontally from one end of the field to the other. I went downfield, broke a couple of tackles before being pushed down after what seemed like an eternity and triumphantly pointed forward for a first down. And here comes my friend D out of the blue:

"Line of scrimmage to your buttprint...EIGHT STEPS. NO first down!"

I was pissed but we all fell out laughing at his comical measurement. Hockey was just us not having any clue about the rules. We thought a high stick meant you couldn't get your stick above your shoulders. And instead of two minute penalties we just gave each other penalty shots. Good times for young kids in the hood.

I peeked outside a few times expecting some giddy kids running around in the snow and I didn't see it, which bummed me out to a degree. We used to get on my mom's nerves so bad she would MAKE us go outside and play until she had dinner ready, lol. And there was the winter storm of 96 that saw my 10-year old sister driving my mom's car up the block. Let me tell you how this one went down.

We were cleaning up the driveway after the snow and I was digging through mom's backseat looking for the salt stuff to clean off the steps and the sidewalk. I hear the drivers' side door open and shut and I'm like "Oh, mom's moving the car up in front of the house." WRONG. My sister turned the car on, put the thing in drive and I was like "NO! WAIT! WE'RE GONNA DIE!" Instead, she moved the thing a few hundred feet like she had been driving for years, and I'm in the backseat stunned as my mom looks at her pulling the car up to the front of the house. Comical.

All this reminiscing is good for a smile when you don't have much else to do on a day like this. I guess this is why I love snowstorms, because it does bring up some good memories.