I don’t do well feeling trapped. I live in New England which is up to its eyeballs in slushy, frozen snow and ice. We did not do the first shoveling well, so until this lovely morning, we had a backlog of nasty-Elsa icy crap blocking my chances to get the kids out for a stroll, AND making me feel crazy trapped.  But all along my husband had an ice pick….

And it just surfaced… So I hacked, swore, and shoveled my way to space and drainage, and it felt like freedom. Muddy, draining, sloppy, boot-ruining freedom.