In a perfect world, Izzy would have awakened to the quiet snow white wonderland surrounding us, eagerly awaiting his moment to escape and frolic in the powdery yard. Instead he awoke to the sounds of our neighbors shoveling. In fact he bounded in to announce that five of our neighbors (not yet 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning, mind you) were already out shoveling their sidewalks.
Meanwhile I was roused by the same sounds and the dread of having to join them. It's not that I particularly mind shoveling snow but I am not especially good at it and for some reason, my shovel never seems to work as well as theirs (maybe I ought to do some shovel research....). In any case, Izzy agreed to postpone breakfast (an extremely rare occurrence) in order to join me. And that was the worst part. Poor Izzy did not have snow boots, having outgrown his pair from last year, all he had to wear were some spring rain boots or a pair of sneakers. I opted for the boots with double socks and we bundled up and went outside. We shoveled until Izzy managed to fill his knee high boots with snow. I sent him inside to watch from the window and after repeated pleas to come in for breakfast, I gave up and joined him. It felt so nice to be inside, sipping tea and feasting on eggs, beans and toast, our Sunday ritual.
Later that morning, we had to go outside again to visit my friend's cats and since his rain boots were now soaked, he had no choice but to wear his sneakers. Along the way, we happened upon a woman ( heretofore unknown to me) shoveling the sidewalk down the block. She asked him where his boots were and I (already annoyed that the poor thing had to go outside in sneakers), nastily replied that he didn't have any. She added this helpful tidbit which made me want to throttle her, "This is the North East. He needs snow boots." I thanked her ever so kindly(if kindness is seething that is) for that advice and we went on our way. Fact was, we had gone out Saturday in search of snow boots but the Newport Mall was of no use and we came home empty-handed.
Our day may not have begun on exactly the note I had imagined but all was not lost in the end, for the rain boots dried up from our morning shovel. Izzy put them on once again for a late afternoon romp in our backyard snowdrifts while I plotted a jaunt to NYC to buy new snow boots, first thing Monday morning.
Izzy Eats: The art of raising a gourmand, one bite at a time
Stirring tales of eating, cooking and foraging in my never-ending quest to provide, great-tasting (local and organic whenever possible) EATS for me and my boy(s).