There is always a point after a big snowstorm that everyone starts getting what is known as cabin fever. When I hear that term, I always think of a log cabin covered with snow with only the top of the chimney exposed and the smoke drifting up into the snowy air. While we are not that snowed in, we are kind of trapped in some ways and have had to think of things to make the best of it.
The problem in New York City is that Manhattan always gets the best attention during snowstorms. Mayor Bloomberg was on television telling people to take mass transit and go to a Broadway show, go out to eat, blah, blah, blah. If Mr. Mayor ever made it to the outer boroughs, he would find that not only are the streets not plowed, but that many subway lines and bus lines are not running either. Sure, we'd love to see a show, but how are we going to get there?
I ventured out today to get coffee, only to see cars, taxi cabs, and even a city bus stuck in the snow. Plows can't get down these streets with vehicles in the way. It is a frustrating situation to be sure. What was worse is that my local Starbucks was closed and completely covered with snow over the windows and doors, so I had to trudge back home and make my own coffee.
Still, getting out and walking was good for me. I got to breathe the cold fresh air, and I also saw that many other people still hadn't even been out yet because their front doors were still covered with snow. At least I had made it outside.
Later in the morning my daughter and I went back out to have some fun. I did some more shoveling as she scouted for the arms for our snowman, and then she started finding the best packing snow to commence the creation of the base.
I joined her and we fashioned a snowman we called "Mike" in honor of the mayor who forgot that Queens and the other boroughs besides Manhattan existed. When finished, Mike seemed a pleasant enough chap, but his biggest attribute was silence. I always wince when Bloomberg speaks, so I wish he would take a cue from his namesake snowman now and then.
We then prepared snowballs for the snowball fight of the century. I was no match for my Lauren's onslaught of carefully aimed volleys, and then had to capitulate after she caught me off guard with one last shot to the kisser. She packs a mean snowball and has quite an arm and pinpoint accuracy.
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