9 Down, 16 to Go

You'll probably have noticed that my title indicates that I didn't quite get my weekly fill of "the beach" last week. The Waterloo area was hit with a major storm Sunday and Monday last week, and though our accumulation was only about 5 inches, the first inch was ice, and the whole thing was neatly topped off with a windstorm that drifted our road closed.

Now to my city readers, I know that sounds like a strange concept. How could a road drift completely closed? Suck it up, Trela, it couldn't have been that bad. Let me first remind you that when I look out of my windows I see fields and the few buildings behind our house. My neighbors are beyond the view from every window of our house. And why does that matter? Quite simply, in a wind/snow situation, there are no neighbors' homes to stop the snow. It blows. And blows. And blows. And lands where it wants, frequently on the road itself. It took Eric and his SUV two attempts to drive to work (only a few miles away) on Monday, and he eventually gave up until later in the day when the paved roads had been cleared. The Department of Transportation kept going back and forth about closing Highway 63, my route to Rochester, so at that point we decided to cancel Monday's appointment.

On Tuesday morning, our road still hadn't been touched by the county, and since Eric had gotten stuck on his way home Monday night, we decided I should stay put for the morning at least. Cancel another appointment! More snow was forcasted for Tuesday night, however, so Eric called his dad who came over, moving snow on the way. He cleared drifts enough that I was able to get down the road and out, and by the time I was 10 miles outside of Waterloo, the highway had improved to near-normal conditions. Of course, as soon as I hit the Minnesota state line, the snow started again, but I made it to Rochester in time to be squeezed in for a 3:30ish appointment to make up the morning one I'd missed.

On Wednesday morning, about the time I was being treated, we lost Eric's Uncle Joe, the man I'd sort of thought of as my partner in crime in this cancer battle. He was diagnosed about 5 months after me with stomach cancer, and though we knew for a little while that his journey was nearing an end, I, like so many other people who knew him, never really thought it would happen. His passing was harder for me than I thought it would be, but in the middle of his visitation on Sunday, I had a flash of an image in my head -- Joe sitting up there with my Aunt Mary, trying to talk her into trying his pasta while she insists he drinks a mug of her ridiculously hot tea. Italian and Irish, just a couple of angels in my corner.

Living Strong for you, Joe.
Carpe diem. - Trela