Rachael and I sing at two Masses on Sundays, one in the morning and the other at 5:30. The practice for the 5:30 Mass begins at four o’clock. Usually, I walk to the morning Mass, and then either work on a project till time to go to the second Mass, or – more likely – take a nap, and then drive to the evening mass. When I stepped out my door to leave, there was a horrifying little white flitter flutter of snowflakes. The weatherman had predicted a tiny bit of snow and immediate rain afterwards. No stickies. He promised. Soooooo, my dilemma was whether to walk and not risk driving in the snow or to believe the weather reports that this snow would not stick. I thought about driving in the snow. I thought about how tired and cold I would be at seven o’clock on this deep winter’s evening. I thought about how I would probably be late if I walked. I opted to believe the weatherman. When Rachael and I came stepped out of the Cathedral, there was snow everywhere. Deep snow. It always astonishes me how the weather report says two inches of snow and I can clearly see two feet. Have you noticed that? During the previous snow, Rachael had been nagging me to drive here or there, and had made allusions to wimpiness when I refused to even try it. Well, here we were with no choice in the matter. We set off. Initially our progress seemed not too bad, but then we saw the Volkswagen in front of us going sideways up a tiny incline. A tiny incline that we were about to go up. Rachael immediately checked her seatbelt. One of my theories of life is that Volkswagens, being of German an
cestry, should do well in the snow. It is their nature. My car is Japanese, and so it is not in its nature. Now, intellectually, I know that it gets very cold and snowy in Japan, but I always think of it as all cherry blossoms and wisteria, and always spring. (See pictures.) So I did not expect much from my poor auto. However, it went up the hill face forward, and performed well till we were nearly home. Some man shook his fist at us as we were struggling up the big hill by our house. Usually, when we are driving along, Rachael gets upset and feels sorry for the other drivers or pedestrians when I call them bad names. This time, she pointed out the man and felt that he should be called a bad name. As we approached our house, she suggested that we park on the street rather than trying to get into our garage – sometimes a slithery business when it is just raining. Of course that would not do. We have to drive across the sidewalk to get into the garage, and the maneuver was initially much like that of the poor Volkswagen. Rachael said, “Let’s leave the car here. The police will understand and won’t mind.” Well, that would not do either – to leave the car parked in the middle of the sidewalk. Finally, we succeeded and were very relieved. I suspect that there will not be any more hints about snow wimpiness. And this snow was probably officially only about an inch deep, I am sure.
Rachael and I sing at two Masses on Sundays, one in the morning and the other at 5:30. The practice for the 5:30 Mass begins at four o’clock. Usually, I walk to the morning Mass, and then either work on a project till time to go to the second Mass, or – more likely – take a nap, and then drive to the evening mass. When I stepped out my door to leave, there was a horrifying little white flitter flutter of snowflakes. The weatherman had predicted a tiny bit of snow and immediate rain afterwards. No stickies. He promised. Soooooo, my dilemma was whether to walk and not risk driving in the snow or to believe the weather reports that this snow would not stick. I thought about driving in the snow. I thought about how tired and cold I would be at seven o’clock on this deep winter’s evening. I thought about how I would probably be late if I walked. I opted to believe the weatherman. When Rachael and I came stepped out of the Cathedral, there was snow everywhere. Deep snow. It always astonishes me how the weather report says two inches of snow and I can clearly see two feet. Have you noticed that? During the previous snow, Rachael had been nagging me to drive here or there, and had made allusions to wimpiness when I refused to even try it. Well, here we were with no choice in the matter. We set off. Initially our progress seemed not too bad, but then we saw the Volkswagen in front of us going sideways up a tiny incline. A tiny incline that we were about to go up. Rachael immediately checked her seatbelt. One of my theories of life is that Volkswagens, being of German an
cestry, should do well in the snow. It is their nature. My car is Japanese, and so it is not in its nature. Now, intellectually, I know that it gets very cold and snowy in Japan, but I always think of it as all cherry blossoms and wisteria, and always spring. (See pictures.) So I did not expect much from my poor auto. However, it went up the hill face forward, and performed well till we were nearly home. Some man shook his fist at us as we were struggling up the big hill by our house. Usually, when we are driving along, Rachael gets upset and feels sorry for the other drivers or pedestrians when I call them bad names. This time, she pointed out the man and felt that he should be called a bad name. As we approached our house, she suggested that we park on the street rather than trying to get into our garage – sometimes a slithery business when it is just raining. Of course that would not do. We have to drive across the sidewalk to get into the garage, and the maneuver was initially much like that of the poor Volkswagen. Rachael said, “Let’s leave the car here. The police will understand and won’t mind.” Well, that would not do either – to leave the car parked in the middle of the sidewalk. Finally, we succeeded and were very relieved. I suspect that there will not be any more hints about snow wimpiness. And this snow was probably officially only about an inch deep, I am sure.
1 comment:
Poor Rachael!
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