One More From My Mom's Driveway Files

We have snow on the ground again. It's been here since Tuesday. And you know what that means to my mom. People need to STAY OUT OF HER DRIVEWAY!

I don't know why Mom is like that. She says it's because the snow gets packed down and turns into ice. So she placidly sits inside her brick split-level home, waiting for the thaw. Oh, she ventures out to get the mail and her newspaper. But she doesn't walk up the driveway. Mom goes straight up through the yard. Can't have compacted footprints making that driveway all slippery.

Another excuse Mom gives for the driveway ban is that she's afraid people might get stuck there. And by "people" she is referring to relatives, like me, Genius, Hick, and my sister the ex-mayor's wife. The ex-mayor himself is apparently immune, since during the last big freeze he waltzed his SUV right down in there without permission before crotchety ol' Mom could step out on her porch, cantankerously shake a broom at him, and holler, "You ex-mayors stay out of my driveway!" Thank goodness the Ex-M didn't get stuck. I don't think Mom fully grasps the concept of four-wheel drive. And you'd think she's never heard of a tow truck, either. It's like she fears somebody getting stranded and having to live with her until spring. Maybe she has Donner tendencies. She does, after all, refuse to leave the house until all snow is melted. It's a good thing she has people looking out for her.

On Thursday, Mom looked through the front window (to see if the snow had melted yet, I presume) and saw that somebody had shoveled a path down her driveway. "I don't know who would have done that. They went all the way down to the gravel on that one side, right up to the porch. They even cleared off the steps. But I don't go that way. I don't want to slip. I take my broom and walk through the snow. I did go across the yard and then up the driveway path, though. They even shoveled over to my mailbox."

"Huh. You have more odd happenings at your house! What if it's that guy who brought you two bags of hedgeapples after not talking to you for 11 years? I'm sure it was your neighbor. The one who brought you your mail last time. He might be expecting more Chex Mix."

"Oh, did I tell you? When I got out Tuesday morning, to mail my weekly card to Genius with the five dollars in it, I called Neighbor's Wife to tell her I was going to put last week's tabloids in her paper box. I had a little snack bag of Chex Mix left over, and I put that in there, too."

"NO! Not her paper box! What if the paper lady thinks it's for HER?"

"Oh, on my way home, I made sure to look and see if Neighbor's Wife had got it yet, and she had. The paper lady doesn't come until after noon, except on the weekends."

"Well, that's good to know. I remember how you said Neighbor got that Chex Mix you left him one time, and he had eaten half of it before he got up his driveway."

"You know, I always ask Neighbor's Wife if I can run those tabloids up to her house. I'm on my way to town anyway, and I'm driving right by. But you know, she tells me to put them in her paper box. Then she comes right out to get them. Neighbor's Wife won't let me come up her driveway! She lets everyone else, but not me!"

"Ha ha! Listen to who's complaining about not being allowed in a driveway!"

Mom did not see the irony in the situation. Maybe it's not even irony. Maybe Mom is as irony-challenged as I am. Maybe it's genetic.