Mother Nature rebooted Winter and shook up her snow globe a bit as well.

I was just as happy with the status quo, even though that piddling amount of snow every day was getting somewhat annoying.

Perhaps I am just a malcontent.

The news media had us all geared up for this snow event, so there would be no big surprises … two inches of snow overnight and maybe another one or two inches by noon. Well, that was a big oops by the weather folks, because when I went outside this morning, I expected to find two inches of snow, but it was twice that amount and heavy and wet as well.  I would later discover we had a 4 ½-inch snowfall overnight.

Though the snow is a pain you know where, there is no taking away from its pristine beauty as it is banked up on bushes, bare branches and even birdbaths. After a snowfall, I especially like looking at the tall fir tree a couple of backyards away, as its boughs are laden with the heavy snow.  I remember the owners planting that tree decades ago and it now towers way over the nearby housetops.

While I would have liked to linger and marvel at the scenery, I had to hunker down and get to work. My lug-soled boots help me get a grip onto the cement, and, the blade likewise had a death grip on the snow, refusing to turn it loose, so it took twice as long, having to tap the blade with each shovelful of snow.  Grrrrr … what happened to the half-can of Pam I used to prevent this problem?

By the time I got done, the driveway was clear to the cement, even though it wasn’t mild. Perhaps it will all disappear for tomorrow morning, or is that just wishful thinking on my part?

Once inside the house, I was still battling that snow that stubbornly stuck onto the blade, so muttering to myself, I bolted downstairs to swipe it off into the laundry tub as it would surely overflow the boot tray.

While dispensing of my many layers of clothing, I realized I was ravenous, having downed my oatmeal about 5:00 a.m. (Do people even say “ravenous” anymore?  I know you never hear the expression “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!” – what happened to those quaint expressions anyway?)

Well, I digressed a tad.

I imagined what I WOULD like to eat, but my usual post-walking or errand-running snack of yogurt and three Clementines didn’t excite me one iota.   The cupboards and fridge aren’t bare, but they don’t hold anything too exciting or tasty either.  Come to think of it, all the food in this household is boring and blah, the result of trying to eat healthy.

As I sipped my coffee, wrapping my still-chilled fingers around the cup, I was musing over a story I heard on the radio this morning. The Bloomberg Business Report was touting the HBO documentary tonight “Becoming Warren Buffett”.  By his own admission, the second richest person in the world eats like a child, chowing down on whatever suits his fancy.  He loves those canned potato sticks, which he snacks on all day, washing them down with five cans of Coke per day.  Buffett often makes a meal of just ice cream.  Every morning for the past 54 years, enroute to the office, he stops at the drive-through at McDonald’s.  The type of breakfast sandwich he chooses is contingent on how his morning is going – no, this doesn’t depend on what side of the bed he gets up on, or if he is running late.  His breakfast sandwich depends on whether the market is up – then he springs for the $3.17 Egg McMuffin with bacon, cheese and egg, or, if the market is down – he goes with the cheaper $2.61 sausage biscuit.  And he always pays the exact amount of cash for his purchase.   Now that story just tickled me when I heard it … frankly, I kind of figured him to be more of a Eggs Benedict kind of guy.

I love the mindset of the quirky billionaire Buffett, as well as the reason he follows a cholesterol, sodium and sugar-laden diet, the likes of what a six-year old might eat if left to their own devices. His reasoning is simple and straightforward:

“I checked the actuarial tables, and the lowest death rate is among six-year-olds. So I decided to eat like a six-year-old.”

Here’s a thought: maybe we all need to live a little more on the edge like the eccentric 84-year-old Buffett – what do you think?