Perhaps it is because I'm a triple bypass survivor. Maybe that has put me on a mission to prove I can do it. I am, after all, only in my early forties. But, I am not at all certain that is what drives me, compels me into the driveway every time I see a flake headed for the pristine blacktop pavement below my dining room window.

But, the funny part of this compulsion is that 35 years ago or so, I remember thinking my parents were nuts for ruining such a perfectly good sledding hill! And, today, I got a glimpse of that myself.

Armed with the trusty metal shovel (no wimpy plastic things for my driveway!) and headed out, sans jacket, because you know one gets way too sweaty shoveling, I began my ritual. Right to left, one shovel-wide sweep at a time. I liken it to mowing the grass, back and forth in even rows. When finally I reached the end of the drive, I knocked the remnants of snow off the shovel, and headed inside for the "icing" on the shoveling cake - a hefty minus 50 degree compatible snow melt, pet safe of course!

When I emerged from the warmth of the garage, snow melt in hand, ready to spread it across the driveway, I had thoughts in my head of having the most envious drive in the neighborhood. I glanced at my neighbor's still unshoveled driveway and sidewalks, and realized, they are always that way. Then another glance around had me noticing the kids, sledding down a kid-made snow mountain across the street. And, before I realized it, one of those giddy participants was standing in front of me, pink cheeks, runny nose, mittens matted with tiny snowballs. She wrinkled her glowing nose, tilted her head slightly and said "Hey, why do you always take away all your snow? Is it because you don't have kids?" I laughed, and said "Oh, no, I have kids, they are just grown up." I suppose she couldn't help herself, as she replied "So, you guys don't like to have fun anymore?"

I chuckled, because I remember having those very same thoughts. And, as I tried to explain that we still love to have fun, just in different ways, she simply couldn't comprehend what I was saying. She did manage to ask if I minded if they used my recycle bin. They were building a fort, and needed as many of these bins as possible. I introduced her to a smaller idea - plastic shoe boxes. I disappeared inside, brought out a half a dozen of them or so, and made her promise to take them inside before they finished playing for the day. She was delighted, and I think it may have helped convince her that I really do like to have fun.

I finished my duty of spreading the ice melt, and made my way inside to switch over the laundry. Then I wandered upstairs, and after just a few minutes, I perused my driveway from the dining room window. Gleaming blacktop was all I could see stretching below my perch. Then, I looked across the way. There was that snow covered drive the McMahon's seem to keep from November till April. And, I couldn't help myself. I took a picture from my window. One of my driveway, and one of the McMahon's. I text messaged both photos to my daughters in New York and Aspen. They each responded "Mom, you're obsessed!" And, I am.

Learn more about this author, Donna LaHale.
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