The Sad Saga of a Boy and His Shovel.

It's an ironic fact that some of the beautiful things in this world will kick your ass until you're dead.

Take this morning.

It's a beautiful day outside. The sky is a vivid blue, the sun is shining like the jewel of heaven, the conifers are looking particularly green...and the freakin' temperature is -40.

Flesh freezes in minutes at that temp, I'm told....and I choose to believe it. When I was in college, I ventured out one day much like today, without actually checking the conditions. THAT time it was -60.

Frostbite was virtually immediate. On my ears. If you've never had frostbite, there are some experiences I don't recommend. The term "my ears was burnin'" does not only apply to people talking about you.

So, you have to balance the need to clear the snowdrifts out of the driveway, making absolutely sure that no flesh is showing, keeping the snow you're moving in a downwindardly direction, and non-so-secretly knowing that it's all a futile game, 'cause it's going to drift again in a half an hour.

I don't know if I mentioned it, but about two weeks ago, I bought a new car. It wasn't so much a jump as a push, really....my wife was worried for my safety, and although my Mazda has served me well these many years, she was concerned that my next run in with the snow would be my last....and, she's also worried that I have no sense of personal danger.

She's wrong. I have a GREAT sense of personal danger. I just also have a great sense of responsibility, and to quote myself from many years ago, in the teeth of another snowstorm, "Well, somebody's gotta be Pa Ingalls, and it might as well be me."

Responsibility always seems to trump personal danger.

Stupid responsibility.

Back to the car. I looked at a lot of them, new and used, and finally decided upon a Mercury Mariner. It's basically a Ford Escape with delusions of grandeur. But oh, what grandeur.....this thing can do everything but cook, I swear to GOD.

Okay, you caught me.....I bought the car as an accessory to my Ipod. But I like the idea of telling the radio what to play, and it does. It's kind of like being Michael Knight, without the snotty car voice.

A little more than I wanted to pay.....but I think, in the long run, it'll be worth it.

Of course, my wife wants it now. And I can't really deny her anything.

Stupid sense of generosity.

I'm off to Fargo tomorrow, assuming the weather holds, to finish up my time in the classroom. It's been interesting, but I'm ready for something else. Anything else. I swear that the job has become almost achingly predictable. If one more person comes through, making a joke about a metal plate in their head, I vow by all that's holy they'll NEED a metal plate in their head.

And yes, I'm considering applying for promotion. A little more money. A lot more responsibility. The same chores. I vacillate between, "okay, I guess," and "no freakin' way."

Today, it's "okay, I guess."

More later as it happens.