Slice of Life: Learning to Snowblow

 On Tuesdays, Two Writing Teachers hosts the Slice of Life. Everyone is welcome to share writing and comment on others in this special community. 

  

My husband pulled his calf muscle a couple of weeks ago. The whole family feels his pain in one way or another, but I especially felt it when we had some unexpected snow accumulation. 

"I can do the driveway," I said. "No problem."

He's always made the task look pretty easy, and he has only complained a couple times when the snow has been extra heavy or deep. The snow I was facing was the light and fluffy variety. 

It's good no one videoed my first couple of passes. 

Garth had to explain and show how to aim the blower, so it didn't send the snow into the part of the driveway that I'd already done. And even when I tried to do it, my aim was a little off, so the snow came flying back into my face. My fingers didn't understand how to pull and turn, and our driveway is long enough that by the time they had to remember the move again, they'd forgotten. (IYKYK.)

There were several moments during the experience that I wanted:

• to quit
• to tell Garth to be quiet with his (helpful) coaching
• to blow the snow right in Garth's face with his (helpful) coaching

I was not terribly proud of my far-from-perfect final product. I don't really want to do it again. If I have to, I will. 

Possible spoiler alert: 

This story and this picture will become part of my presentation when I talk about early writers. All insights to the connections between first-time snowblowing and early writers are welcome.