For God’s Sake, Stop It!

Dyed-in-the-wet-wool-socks snow lover David Leite is mad as hell at all these snow storms, and he’s not going to take it anymore.

Snow, Snow, Snow
Click me for a panorama of winter panic

I know, I know. This image looks familiar. You’re tired of seeing snow on my blahg. I’m tired of seeing snow out my window. It just doesn’t stop. I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore! And this is coming from a dyed-in-the-wet-wool-socks snow lover. 

If I were a kid again and my father were shoveling the walk and snow-blowing the driveway while I stood in the doorway, a cup of hot chocolate warming my hands, instructing him in the proper method of snow removal, everything would be fine.

David Leite sweeping the walkway

But now it’s me who has to clean that son-of-a-bitch-ing walkway, knock snow off the huge yew bushes with a too-short broom. And worst of all, carry bags of seeping, malodorous trash over snowbanks at least as tall as me–not very successfully, I might add. (You try getting the stains and stenches of soured milk, rendered duck fat, and a moldering chicken from the back of the fridge out of your only winter jacket, and then look me in the eye and say, “But it’s so pretty outside, David.”)

I don’t give a rat’s ass if it’s pretty and cozy and safe. My detestation of manual labor and laundering has far outstripped my love of the white stuff. 

I never thought I’d say this, but I want heat. I want sticky sweat on the back of my neck. I want long–long as in vernal-equinox-long–days. Hell, I’d even cut the grass with the push lawnmower if it meant I didn’t have to go through another winter like this.

Of course, the biggest joke is that I’m trapped in this house and I can’t even make some of those incredible snowbound dishes like Blizzard Beef, Roast Pork in Milk, or Roast Chicken with Pancetta and Olives. No, Brilliant Me didn’t go shopping to prepare for the storm, because as of bedtime last night, nary a snowflake had fallen. So instead I’m stuck with Lean Cuisines, ancient frozen skinless chicken breasts, and a few boxes of pasta from Eataly–and no sauce. (Note to self: Tell The One what a genius idea it was to clean out the pantry, fridge, and freezer before we went away to Charleston for a long weekend.)

Oh, go ahead, ignore me. It’s fine. I’ll just sit here in the dark and bitch. Oh yeah, didn’t I mention the power went out again? At least I have Devil Cat to keep me warm.



    1. I was using my iPad as a wireless hub. And, yes, sadly we’ve had more than five days without power, too. I think in total, we’re looking at 14 or 15–in the past year.

  1. David, not quite sure if to non-stop laugh or cry with you. Laugh cause this is one of the very best and funny posts from you. Best as it is so straight-forward, to the point, no sugar-coating it! Yet I can so relate with you. This sweet, white stuff outside is getting to me too. Beautiful photos, postcards but enough please! I want sun, warmth, garden…

    1. Sofia, thank you. But at least you were smart enough to drive to the store and get the ingredients for Blizzard Beef. And your photos, which have been on my desktop for a few days, aren’t helping the situation, as I lick peanut butter from a spoon and contemplate eating canned cannellini beans with an expiration date of 2011.

      Sofia's Blizzard Beef

      1. Excuse me please… but what is Blizzard Beef? I’m from the south… an inch and a half is a blizzard to us 😀 but that beef looked amazing!!!

        1. LOL, Lindsay. If you click on the link for Blizzard Beef, you’ll see an old video of The One and me making an old family favorite. It’s just a silly name we gave this very easy dish.

      2. Well now it makes me sad to imagine you drooling over photos (still funny though!). The good news is that our snow here is FINALLY melting which means that within 2 days you will get our warmer weather!

        1. They’re saying we’re supposed to have temperatures in the 50s tomorrow. I don’t know if I believe them. If the power goes off again they may find a very frozen and hungry Fatty Daddy.

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