We dig this snow, and other cliches

Welcome to Marianne's primer on how to get along with the locals for the rest of the winter. Before we begin with these life-saving measures, however, please note the photo above. One, two, three, four----count 'em----not the dogs but the shovels.

We are now three shovels richer here at the Lovestead, thanks to Bill's vigilance on Saturday when he went to town to get those shovels that he had heard might just be in at Home Depot. Well, they weren't. They weren't at Wal-Mart either, nor Co-Op.

Bill was dejected and as he drove on to town to deposit my letters at the post office. While driving down Third Avenue, he suddenly spotted a shovel walking out the door of Merwin's Hometown Hardware with a human holding it.

Bill parked, went inside and spotted the most beautiful grand array of shovels he'd ever seen. He was so impressed with all the choices that he bought three of them, almost $90. I asked him how he could possibly use three shovels at once, since that blue one in the photo is mine.
"Different uses," he said. "Look at 'em." Sure enough each one could make his job of removing snow from the roof that much easier.

Now, we're almost as rich with shovels as we are lawnmowers and weed eaters. Of course, the state of my lawnmowers and weed eaters is in question these days as some of them are stored in the caved-in storage shed.

Anyway, it has occurred to me that this winter of monotonous sameness could be dangerous, especially when you're sharing your experiences with others. So, I have come up with some ideas of what not to share with locals for the next several weeks. The motivation: you're gonna find out damn soon that they've all "been there, done that" and they're damn tired of thinking about it.

So, for your own safety, refrain from sharing the following:

How deep your snow is----you'll learn that everyone else's is deeper.

How high the walls of your canyon trails are---you'll learn that everyone else's are higher and narrower.

How much space you do not have for depositing any more snow, especially since the Daily Bee reminded us last week that it's against the law to plow any of your personal snow out onto the county's snow. Doesn't the county's snow belong to everyone? Don't we pay taxes for that snow? So, if our personal snow mixes with the county snow, isn't it all in the family anyway?

Don't share how many moose you've seen on the roadways, in your driveway, or near your barn in the past week. Those moose all got together about three weeks ago and agreed to invade the lowlands. So, for every moose you've got in your driveway everyone else has two more sleeping on top of their bedroom windows. Let's remember they can't sleep under your bedroom window because it's covered with snow.

Which brings to mind another point: the house tombs around the county. Everyone's got 'em. So, you're not sharing anything new when you show and tell how dark it is inside your house cuz the snow has covered up all the windows.

And, when you show and tell those snow pictures, just to one-ups-man someone else who showed and telled you some snow pictures, keep in mind that some of those folks are still on dial-up. So, spare them the dozen or so you put into one document and sent to them, keeping them sitting there cussing at whoever the dipstick was who sent this 8758 K document from their high speed computer to your dial-up antique. After all, when you do that to someone, that means they have to sit there staring at the screen for almost an hour when they could be outside shoveling.

How much you've spent in fuel to keep all the plowing equipment going this winter. I was kinda glad to hear that from my husband because he admitted openly that his trips to town with the gas cans have been much more frequent this winter than they ever are in the summer when I'm doing my monster lawn mowing. I'll mow guilt free this summer.

How this winter has got to be the worst ever; that will be disputed by virtually every local who was alive and stuck inside their house for one week straight in January, 1969.

In short, when you do get out and you do run into some weary looking person you know at the grocery store and they ask, "What's new?" the best response is the following:

"I can't tell you anything new that you don't already know."

They'll appreciate you forever and maybe even tell you about the good buy on shovels down at Merwins.