We're still digging out, here in Denver.

Thanks to the foresight and all-around sensibleness of the R.C., she actually had a small, collapsible shovel, something we haven't had for any of our previous two-footers.

We did a bit of digging out yesterday, just around the cars, and then, just as she'd predicted, a young man came by, desirous of freeing his own car but lacking any of the necessary implements. He volunteered to finish cleaning out our cars if we'd loan him the shovel to clean himself out.

This is what I like to see. The young and fit stepping up to help out the aged (or at least the lazy) in a time of emergency.

She also loaned the shovel to a couple digging out a van. There was some thought of loaning it to another woman after that, but she looked at us funny, so no go.

We also foraged up to the Sideways Car, an abandoned vehicle that's been blocking half the road since Wednesday night. Maybe I should have thought of it earlier, but I didn't, so Friday we made our way up there so I could wipe part of a window clean and make sure no one was inside.

I'd like to walk across the street to Whole Foods and the drugstore, but I swear the pavement is so bad that it would be more sensible to drive the entire 1,000 feet. The sidewalks are still over knee-deep and our apartment crew, never famed for cleaning sidewalks before, has actually been hard at work cleaning them, but they're starting with the ones inside the complex, not the ones that go along the road. We can make it to the edge of our parking lot but after that, it's a snowy wilderness.

I tried walking to the corner yesterday but I found myself stumping along with one foot on the sidewalk and one on the street. Our street hasn’t been plowed and I was foolishly assuming that the sidewalk was in a straight line up from the intersection. Turns out it was a couple of feet to the right.

The only place to walk where you can see where you're putting your feet is in the narrow strip of packed now that's currently being shared by two-way vehicle traffic. Since half of them are coming down a hill and the other half are revving up to get up it, I'm not comfortable walking there.

And, of course, getting to the intersection is only half the battle. Even if we could make it to the stoplight pole to push the button to get a "walk" signal (danger--somewhere under that snow is a storm drain that sits a good six to eight inches lower than the rest of the pavement), we'd have to wait for the cross-traffic to manage to stop, and then make sure none of the bewildering stream of cars coming down our unplowed road were aiming for us, before we could make it across the street.

And then across the mall parking lot and another no-doubt unplowed sidewalk to wade down, and then another, even busier intersection to cross.

And then, you know, back again.

The R.C. is suffering from a bit of cabin fever, in spite of going out and walking around the parking lot for a couple of hours a day. She's one of those people who doesn't think they're doing anything if they're not moving from place to place. Me, I'm a much more peaceful person who is almost always happiest curled up with a book, moving nothing but my brain, but even I'm feeling that three days of staring at the apartment walls is pretty much enough.

Fortunately, today's storm has been downgraded from "accumulation" to "partly-cloudy." The sun is high in the sky and in an hour or so, it's going to be time to begin the Wilderness Trek to food. (We have food, I hasten to add. We're in no danger of starving. We just want different food.)

If I don't return, know that I will rest peacefully, secure in the knowledge that it was all in pursuit of champagne truffles and that it was worth it.

P.S. We returned safely, but deciding to go for a walk in these conditions might not been our wisest move ever. (Also? No truffles.)