Dig this

By Doug Miller
Posted: February 9, 2010

The original plan was not to hole up with four Spartan princesses for an entire weekend. That’s just how it worked out.

And it’s a good thing. When the snow hit, my wife was in Florida, of all places. She and her younger sister had left that morning, leaving a day ahead of schedule (to beat the weather) on a long-planned trip to help their older sister with a move.

My 15-year-old daughter wanted to have some friends for a sleepover. I was sick as a dog at that point, and in no condition to argue. Besides, with what we knew was coming, it was a lot safer. If it had been just her and me snowed in for three days, it would have been redrum and “Here’s Johnny” and the whole nine grisly yards.

On Saturday my daughter and her friends used rouge and eye shadow as war paint, putting red and blue hash marks across their cheeks as they prepared to attack the driveway. “We are Sparta!” one of them intoned.

I wasn’t yet warrior-worthy, but was feeling a little better, so I joined them.

We had but one objective. Friday night, as the heavy stuff was starting, I suddenly realized that my sister-in-law’s car was parked on the street and would make things tougher on the snowplow drivers than they were already.

Hours of digging on Saturday was just enough to free the car and a tiny space in the driveway. It was a tight squeeze, and I was skidding and stalling out. We dug out a little more space, and after five or six tries, I finally got it into the driveway.

By then it was getting dark, so the girls stayed over again that night. No sense trying to send them home through all that if we didn’t have to. On Sunday, though, our house guests decided they’d seen enough of us and headed for home. Our neighborhood still hadn’t been plowed, so what would normally be a leisurely stroll became a slog.

After my daughter got back from seeing her guests home, she joined me in clearing the rest of our driveway and our part of the sidewalk (which, in retrospect, was pointless, since the plow covered it again with what was in the street).

I haven’t worked out like that in a long while. Maybe ever.

I got so I was perfecting technique with my curve-shafted snow shovel, which is supposed to be easier on your back but makes dumping your load trickier. Lift, turn, put left hand and shoulder behind the shaft near the blade, right hand atop the handle (removing thumb so as not to twist it), step into the throw and catapult your load over the mountain of stuff you’ve already moved.

When the plow finally did get to our street late afternoon Monday, of course, we had to hit the driveway again to clear what the plow left at its mouth. Lift, turn, position hands, step into throw.

My shoulder’s a little balky, but all things considered, I’m remarkably unsore.

For now, that is. We’ll see how I hold up after tomorrow’s shoveling.

Good news is that my wife gets back from Florida today. Presuming her flight isn’t cancelled.

Hmm, might need to get a message to Sparta.

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