Dear Ellen: Blizzard Conversations

Sometimes I write letters to Ellen DeGeneres. No Particular reason. Just because I can.

The Little Man Photo by A. Marie Silver
The Little Man
Photo by A. Marie Silver

Dear Ellen,

On Saturday my husband decided to go out during a small break in the blizzard and shovel.  It didn’t make any sense to me.  Why shovel in the middle of a blizzard? Why not wait until the storm has passed so you only have to shovel once? And then I remembered, he was probably trying to escape the chaos of two toddlers. A nice play on his part.

I assumed he’d only be outside for an hour; he was actually outside for several hours.  During that time, I realized I needed a break from the kids, so I began popping my head outside to see what he was up to.

“Hubby!” I called, after the first hour.


“Are you still alive?”


“Are you still alive?” I asked again.”


“Okay. Just checking!”

Another hour passed and I popped my head outside again.

“Hey honey?”


“Do you remember how Jack Nicholson died in The Shining?”

He smiled and laughed. “Yeah…”

“Okay,” I said. “Don’t do that!”

“I’ll do my best dear.”

Hour three.  My husband was still outside.

“Hey honey?”

” Yes, dear?”

“Did you know that according to the CDC, an average of 1300 people die from hypothermia every year. And of those 1300 people, 67% are men?”

“No.  Thank you for that! It’s an incredibly cheerful thought.”

“Glad I can help,” I said as I closed the door.

After four hours, he came back inside complaining of aches and pains. Sometimes, Ellen, I wonder, could I be one of his aches and pains?


A. Marie

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