My Snow Panic

MEDFORD

February 15, 2015

It’s Sunday night.

You haven’t blogged yet.

Blog!

Why aren’t you Blogging?

Ok, ok, good, now you’re blogging.

It’s ok, I know it looked like you didn’t have any ideas that were going to cohere today, but you’ve got it now.

No, you’re right, I know, it totally isn’t your fault that you’ve been buried under a five-foot tall pile of snow. And right, the MBTA! The MBTA keeps shutting things down. And when it’s running, nobody wants to go anywhere because all buses and trains, when they turn up, are packed. And broken.

And, once you swallow your terror and get on board, there will be no sitting down. There will only be upright spooning with strangers, and then swaying together — human spoons, nested, swaying, pretending to be elsewhere. Thank god we’re all wearing big puffy coats to help us maintain the illusion of personal space.

Yesterday was nice, though, right? WBUR Meteorologist David Epstein said the weather wouldn’t get bad till late, so we could all keep our Valentine’s day plans. After gleefully trudging a mile and a half to Davis Square, grabbing, on impulse, 2 chocolate chip cookies for $2.49 at the Davis Au Bon Pain, you and Tim didn’t bat an eye at the mob of people waiting for the train. Delays due to a severe and mysterious medical emergency at the Park Street Station…Who Cares?! Love! Cookies! And the massive angry crowd of Valentines people was thinner at the back of the train! No stranger spooning! Score!

In spite of the falling snow, icy temperatures, wind, slush, and sidewalks-turned-giant snow caverns, you still got to the Russell House Tavern in Harvard Square for the raw bar, lobster sliders, and a lovely glass of bubbly. And then pen shopping at Bob Slate Stationers, followed by comics at The Million Year Picnic and a new pair of whale socks at Newbury Comics (which sells more socks now than it does comics…or music, but no matter. One must find one’s cool-ass socks somewhere.)

Over night, though. Wow. Here’s the neighborhood:

The beautiful, frozen Mystic

Tim wanted to see the beautiful, frozen Mystic, so we walked over there. It usually takes us about five minutes to get to this bridge. This time, maybe twenty minutes? Twenty five?

I could not see over the bridge’s snowbank to see the beautiful, frozen Mystic. But that’s ok!

I can barely see over the top of this snow cavern, but that’s ok!

My home is totally buried in snow, but that’s ok!

And around the home, we have beautiful, terrifying Ice Dams that could fall and kill us, but that’s ok!

Because under what other circumstances can I get away with rocking these cool-ass socks?

Yes, those socks are cool-ass, indeed. And it’s ok that the only thing you really have to blog about is the same thing that everyone in eastern Mass, parts of Rhode Island, New Hampshire, and Maine has been talking about for the past month? I mean, it is a crazy huge amount of snow. Seriously.

My Meow Mile

SOMERVILLE, MA

The Meow Mile: October 12, 2014, 10:30 am
Between Davis Square and Union Square

Some fifty of us clustered around the starting line, where the Minuteman Bike Path intersects Willow Ave. If you drove by that day, you probably noticed the crowd; then you probably noticed the abundance of runners wearing fluffy cat ears. I didn’t have a pair; it never even occurred to me to get one. But, of course, once I saw them I was tremendously jealous of the ear people. In cat ears or not, we were all gathered to “run, walk, and pounce” a 5K in support of the Charles River Alley Cats and the Gifford Cat Shelter. The organizers were all in high spirits at the turnout, despite falling short of their fundraising goal. Fortunately, there’s an app for that. You can raise money with every step you take, so with luck, smartphones, and a lot of stepping, the goal will be within reach. (You can search and select any shelter you want to support, including both Gifford Shelter and Charles River Alleycats — it’s really easy.)

The cat ears are all the more necessary because there is an Official High-Five/Fist-Bump for the Meow Mile. It is performed as follows:

Face each other. High-Five (as normal.)

Immediately, Fist-Bump and then Lick Your Fist (or pretend to.)

Finish by Rubbing Licked Fist against Forehead in One Circular Motion.

You see now how the cat ears really make the whole thing. But we can imagine we have cat ears, can’t we? Yes we can. from pixabay.com

My partner Tim and I like to do local 5K walk/runs because they serve as a sort of “exercise event” in our lives — something we can go out and do together on a weekend morning that lets us interact with the town. We like things like this because they make us feel like we live here, and are not in fact a nation of 2. But we were really looking forward to the Meow Mile because the Gifford Cat Shelter introduced us to Iris and Lateegra. One and Two Years Old, respectively, both Iris and Lateegra were found at feeding stations that both the Gifford Shelter and the Charles River Alleycats maintain. Both organizations watch over feeding stations and — quite heroically, I think — round up stray and feral cats, determine which have been socialized (and are thus “adoptable”), which are feral, neuter/spay all of them, and then either relocate the adoptable cats to a no-kill shelter or return the feral cats to their colonies. You can find out more about how feral cat colonies work and the positive effects of catch-neuter/spay-return at the Charles River Alleycat website. Feral cats are pretty fascinating.

Before setting out, Tim had studied the map. He showed me, told me the turns. I half listened, assuming there would be signs or volunteers along the route to tell me which way to go. I glanced at the map, got the general shape. Then the race began.

I’m working up to running races, and so for this one I embraced the option to “walk/run.” Tim ran — he’s pretty seasoned, and he was the first one out. He never wins, but he likes to best himself. It was a gorgeous day; one of those cloudless blue days, just crisp enough to make you glad it’s October. I sniffed the autumn air and let the faster people pass me by. Along the way, I saw some places I’d forgotten that I loved since moving from Somerville to Medford: Hub Comics at Bow St. and Walnut, where I bought my first Moomin; and Highland Kitchen, where we celebrated my dissertation defense.

I knew that Tim would be finished in half the time it took me; when I was in the home stretch, I broke into a run. The walkers were clustering together and moving too slow for me (If I’m walking, I want to walk really fast.) I darted across the finish line and Fist Bump-Face Washed with Tim. He complemented me on my time; indeed, his was half as long. “You’re not gonna believe this,” he said, with a sheepish look on his face. “Oh my god, you won, didn’t you?” He nodded. As usually happens, faster runners pulled ahead of him. But apparently none of them had paid attention to the map.

Iris and the magic oven mitt.

Lateegra, inhabiting the writing room window.

Meow Mile Map

 

–Rebecca Thorndike-Breeze