One More

It starts in September, with caramel pumpkins, and ends in April with caramel eggs. In between there is a continuous flow of caramel santas and hearts. And it is cruel, Russell Stover- it's cruel. Almost half a year of cheap, thrilling temptation.

I commute the three mile stretch to work with some combination of bus and foot travel, depending on my schedule and list of errands. It is not a food desert, with healthy food no where in sight. There are even a couple of natural foods stores and a decent grocery store within a few feet of the street. But there are also no less than four convenience stores, four Family Dollars, and three Golden Arches on my way to work. All of them peddling the most calories for the least cash.

On the day after Valentine's Day, these caramel hearts were four for a dollar at a drug store(And why do they sell cigarettes at drug stores? This makes no sense.) They were right next to the caramel Easter eggs that had already taken their place- two for a dollar.

So while I am walking off these sweet little treats, it is also easier for me to get my hands on them. No parking, no waiting, no hassle. It's on the way. Step right in. Thankfully, just a few more weeks, and then the burden is lifted, until next Halloween season.

White Out

No matter what you call it- snowpolcalypse, snowapalooza, snowmaggedon- it happened. Someone wished really hard in their heart for snow and they got it, 20 inches of it in one night. The governor has declared a state of emergency, and the mayor wants the city to stay home.

On our cul de sac, which never sees a plow or salt truck on a light snow day, most people have still not dug out their cars. There was no point. Almost everything in the city, from churches to libraries, was shut down. Public transportation is limited. Some people still don't even have power or heat.

But as my girlfriend said, the novelty has worn off. Under normal circumstances, we relish a day off, a reason to stay put. But being forced into seclusion by a crusty blanket of snow and a baby-faced mayor? That just seems un-American. Child-like wonder has given way to the reality of getting on with it.

Everyone has a story of how they are getting to work today. Mine's not quite as bad as I imagined, but not as good as I had hoped. Over the weekend, most neighbors have shoveled a path on their pieces of sidewalk, if not down to pavement. I didn't expect buses to be on time- though Penn Avenue is moving, there is still a brown-sugary coating of snow on it. The snow came over the tops of my boots in places. My feet were cold, but I was in good spirits.

Then the 86B passed by our stop as another rider and I stood there with our mouths open in silent protest. We waited 35 minutes for another. As other riders joined us, the sting wore off. On Saturday, one person paid $100 to a man with a truck to drive her from her home in McKeesport to family with heat in the city. I was feeling lucky.

My luck ran out at the Penn Mall Station. The sun was out, but the temperature has dropped since this weekend. Two pairs of wool socks in rubber boots were not enough. Four East Hills buses later, with no sign of any others, I headed for the East Busway. I just missed an EBA. An EBO came ten minutes later. One stop and 4 blocks of walking on unshoveled sidewalks and snow covered roads, and I was at work. More than two hours after I started out.

We are expecting a possible 6 more inches of snow tomorrow. In the face of it, my mind turns to fantasy. I am thinking of being swaddled beneath a ton of furs in a horse- drawn carriage a la Doctor Zhivago or isn't there a scene in The Lion in Winter where Katherine Hepburn arrives at Anjou by boat, effortlessly ferried by a dozen men?

If you know of someone with a horse-drawn carriage or a barge, could you ask them to give me a ring, send me a telegram, send word through their manservant?