The First and Last Time I Will Ever Shovel Snow

Because my dad was a bit of prankster like I am…he decided to leave this universe smack fucking dab in the middle of November exactly 6 years ago to the week…and shortly before a major snowstorm…as a matter of fact, I got picked up at the airport and went straight to the Cleveland Clinic wearing Jeans, T-shirt and Ugg boots…as the heart doctor was leading me down the corridor, without hesitation or looking back, he quipped “Oh, I didn’t think they would sell Ugg boots in sunny California"…ohhhh, someone thinks they are being cute and snarky...but clearly didn’t realize who he was dealing with:

Yours truly: Clearly they don’t teach the history of Ugg boots in medical school...they were originally “created” in Southern California…thank god my Dad doesn’t need a sheepskin transplant. 
Even though the Clinic did everything they could to save my Dad, Dave finally decided to say “fuck it, I always liked the view from the top”.

Fast forward about 3 weeks later when my Mother returned to work after Thanksgiving:

The aforementioned storm decided to hit, and I thought I would perform my daughterly duty and do something about all the snow in the driveway before Louise got home…I put on my North Face ski jacket I preciously used only to look cute in Mammoth or Big Bear, but now it is going to get used for its intended purpose...or so I thought...I went into the garage to grab the snow blower and get to work…until I noticed there was no button simply marked “start”…WHAT THE FUCK? Of course I called my best friend of 39 years and asked her how to start a snow blower and the conversation was over this quickly:

Yours Truly: Umm, how do you start a snow blower?
AO: Well, it’s similar to a lawn mower…oh wait; you have never used a lawn mower in your life

YT: Right, thanks. Call you later. 

Ok, well at least there was a shovel…that should work, I will just take a break every 3 minutes. 

To help with visuals, imagine the Brady Bunch house but with an attached garage:

I opened the garage door and looked down to see snow almost up to my knees…I hadn’t seen that much white powder since the last Playboy Mansion party. I started to hyperventilate and immediately went into survival mode…my first thought was “how do they handle these type of emergencies in movies?” Two things came to mind 1) They eat each other 2) They drink whiskey. Good thing my Dad has a bar. I shut the garage door, walked into the house and went straight to the “Crown” and drank 4 shots…I was feeling warm and fuzzy and decided it was time to face the white fuckery waiting for me, mocking me.

I went back out ready to take on the world one shovel stroke at a time…which lasted all about 25 seconds before I was horrified that the snow didn’t want to jump ship from the metal plate…this shit was just way too much work, there has to be an easier way. I took my buzzed ass back into the house, took off my boots and marched into the kitchen looking for my solution…which of course I found between “Shake n’ Bake” and generic “Mac n’ Cheese"…Nonstick cooking spray. I sprayed the shovel and went to town (although all my mother had was butter flavored so the snow turned yellow, which I found a bit disturbing and amusing at the same time)…I felt nothing for about 20 minutes until I got a little dizzy and saw visions of Sugar Plum Fairies. I stopped for a moment to get my bearings, and all of a sudden I looked up and saw what was the like equivalent of Black Hawk Down coming down the street…a snow plow. 
I flagged him down as if I was seconds away from buzzards plucking out my eyes, and saw the look of “how much money do you have?” on his face…before he could say a word, I offered up Chicken (my cat) explaining that the street value is somewhere around $500 and that he could have my diamond earrings even though I wasn’t sure they were real because I also suspected the boyfriend that gave then to might be gay. Mr. Snow Plow man flashed a grin (albeit a missing teeth grin) and told me he would just “send a bill”…I thought for sure we would I murdered before the New Year. 

But alas, I am alive...Chicken is still here, my mother has a regular plow service…and I am still not sure if my earrings are real.