Sheila's Brush

  • Downhome Magazine
  • Posted: Nov 30, -0001 12:00 AM
Friday, March 18, 2011

My daughter has finally recovered from pneumonia and then a nasty virus that kept us housebound for a pleasant two weeks. In that time I snuggled with my daughter, re-arranged tupperware, and gutted closets. It was during these activities I discovered my house in need of some serious spring dusting and a coat of paint.

No one will argue, when you have kids there is a certain amount of paint scratches, smudges, and the occasional gouge that falls in the acceptable level. I've discovered dust-bunnies that, had they been left another day or so, might have walked themselves into the garbage.

Spring project? Nothing a little sand paper and a lick of paint can't fix, right? Paint those dust bunnies right into the wall as if they were always meant to be there! HA! Who am I kidding? I can barely get a week's worth of laundry put away. It gets washed, folded into the laundry basket, emptied and sorted onto my bed...then back into the basket as I'm too tired and need to get into my bed (this process is then repeated for the next three-four days until the clothes is finally put away). Sound familiar?

It's been an interesting few weeks to say the least. Hockey for the boys is now in playoff mode, while other activities, like gymnastics and CanSkate are coming to an end for the winter season. I can't complain about winter, we've been quite lucky this year. Though, once again I must slowly reintroduce my eyes to the phenomenon known as the "sun." I don't know if Newfoundlanders go South during March and April specifically for sand, palm trees, and "all-inclusive" resorts; or, more so to solidify the belief that the sun does shine in other parts of the world.

Last week while drudging my way down the Parkway, its glorious rays broke through the gray, grief-stricken clouds of March spilling light and hope onto the streets of St. John's. Like a scene out of Hollywood, I wanted to pull over, exit the vehicle, stand in the middle of the road allowing my skin to absorb the heavenly and scarce warmth of the sun until a little voice breaks through the silence as my blinded eyes squint to regain their focus while I attempt to remain on the road, "Mom, can I have $20 for Toys"R"US?"

All that's left now is the impending winter storm of Sheila's Brush. Generally, St. Patrick's Day is accompanied by the legend of Sheila's Brush. Newfoundlanders are given one last final wallop of a winter storm to officiate the coming of spring (spring? I laugh). It's said that Sheila is either the mother, sister or wife of St. Patrick; this final storm (or storms) are said to be Sheila brushing away what's left of winter, making way for spring to arrive.

Well, I hear she's cleaning house for this weekend. If so, I have a few requests. "Sheila? While you're whipping up a few snow squalls, blowing snow and zero visibility could ya swoop by and take some dust bunnies, slap a coat of paint on the walls and base boards and if there's time, drop a box of wax on the door-step?" And winter's not the only thing needing a "brushing away" - these legs haven't seen a razor since...good grief that's not pleasant!