A Huge Snowfail Last Night

I was out trash-talking the weather today after the big snowstorm. First, you know me, I wasn't impressed. I used to hear the old timers talk about snow so deep they had to cancel school for a month. That was back before the government realized you could build trucks to get rid of it. And, second, I'm just not that easy to impress. Even if nature eventually destroys us completely, my last words will be, "With any competence it wouldn't have taken so long."

Of course I don't have to worry about nature destroying us. Mankind is king of the universe, OK?, the judge and jury over these pipsqueak storms. We have brains, but nature has no real organization. If I were pissed off nature (nature with brains) I'd concentrate my whole force in one area and make an example of someone. Like Afghanistan. American man has been screwing around in the war over there for close to 15 years and doesn't seem to be any closer to beating whoever it is we're fighting. But if I'm pissed off nature, I whirl and blow till they beg for mercy and choose to have a righteous democracy, giving rights to their girls to go to school.

That's all taking me pretty far afield, since I didn't mean to get mixed up in Afghanistan. If any terrorists are reading this, please don't hurt me. I wouldn't normally be afraid, but, seriously, if American man has been screwing around trying to beat you for close to 15 years, you must be doing something right.

My actual topic is the failure of our snowfall last night. I've never thought of snow as a true success till it's hit the ground. That has to be the purpose. It's up there in the tallest part of the sky and has the ground as its destination. But -- this is Nature vs. Nature -- it gets caught in trees, on cars, and even on my head. That's a weird thing I think of every snowstorm: "This snow fell from the tallest part of the sky and just happened to land on my head. Imagine that, if only snow came with winning lottery numbers!" And you can even localize it more, if it lands on an even smaller target, your tongue...

I was driving past this local wall, seen in the photo, and saw the tragedy of snow failing. Such as getting all the way from the tallest part of the sky and screwing it up with a mere 8 inches to go! Instead of falling on the ground, it got trapped in the crevices of the bricks. Then 8 inches up from that, and on and on. Isn't that a drag if you're snow? You're looking at the ground and knowing it's a sure thing ... just to have the wind swirl at the last possible second and put you on a ledge 8 inches up.

Talking Trash To Melting Snow

I have so many problems with snow when it's at the height of its power, when it's melting I like to ridicule it. Taunting has always been my thing:

How the mighty have fallen! Thou shalt die the deaths of the uncircumcised by the hand of strangers: for I have spoken it. Good riddance! Don't write, don't call, don't drop by!

It's nothing but the wasted away reminder of its former self. You're not so tough now, are you? I could kill you with a teaspoon of ice melt. I'm going to be out here again in five minutes to beat you to death with a shovel. And the way you're stuck to the ground, it doesn't look like you'll get away. Look at me when I'm talking to you! How do you feel, seeing I'm walking quite unimpeded.

And it's true; I'm able to run circles around it. There's more grass and, unfortunately, more unraked autumn leaves, than snow. There's no slipping, no falling, no care, no concern for the diminishing white stuff. It's completely lost whatever it had that brought us terror. More talking trash: I've heard of being up to your hips in snow, but you're not so tough, my little toe's not even slightly cool. Is this snow or dandruff? Nice sunny day, huh? I can't hear you! If I threw you in the road, no one would notice! They wouldn't send a truck out to scoop you!

I'm getting in some good licks. Although part of me knows I'll eventually have to pay for it, since snow will again one day have its strength. So we shall tussle, but today, right now, I'm the one with strength. And when I have the upper hand, when I'm able to dominate, that's exactly what I'm going to do, without hesitation, without mercy.

Then I go around to the north side, where the snow has a few more reserves, shivering in the shadows. Oh, hiding over here, are you? Come on, be realistic. It's time to cash in your chips, snow, you have no hope, give up the ghost. If you had half the balls you think you have you'd come over to the south side and prove it. How about a bucket of hot water to toughen you up?

Yeah, snow, I hear you, you were a big man there for a while. People passed by and saw a revolting sight. We had old ladies backed up three blocks trying to see the snow man up the road. And I saw you, too, I saw your pride, your feeling you could do anything. At that time, you taunted us ... I'm the man, I'm the man, there's no man like me! Etc., disgusting stuff! Pull up your damned pants!

But you're not looking so hot now. Or perhaps you are looking hot, and that's the problem. This photo was taken on the exact spot where the snow showed off its enormous package. Admittedly, it was a giant that night. As disgusting at it was, it definitely put me to shame. But that was then, this is now. Now it's a few spots of white. Snow swimmers? I don't know.

It's about over. This is getting pathetic. Snow has had its day, and now its day is through, now it dies. You really had us going there for a while. Ha ha, but now, oh boy, you're finished! You sicken me.

Our Feathered Friends -- All Flights Grounded

Everyone knows I've been feeding our feathered friends outside here in my back yard. So far, I have accrued many good experiences and memories; it seems I'm constantly pumping my fist and shouting, "Yeah!" They come swooping in from everywhere, all the cardinal directions. They stay a while, then they're off. Our feathered friends are a very skittish breed. I have my doubts that they're truly evolved from the dinosaurs, unless dinosaurs were the biggest cowards on four legs!

It's been a lot of fun. I mean, I feel like shouting "Yeah!" right now, because, if truth be told, I've really gotten off on watching them. The dinosaurs somehow got the gift of flight, and they're not afraid to use it. Seriously, they can make a hairpin turn in midair without batting an eye. And the ability to hover -- literally to hover -- in one spot near the feeder is nothing but phenomenal. I can barely stand next to it without getting tipsy and falling over!

I buy feed in 40 pound bags. When I'm carrying it home, necessitating many sit-down breaks on the way, I keep thinking the same awesome truth: What is so extraordinarily hard for me to carry a few miles will be nothing for them, because they're carrying only one grain at a time. They've really taught me an interesting lesson on carrying things. It takes me forever to carry 40 pounds of it, but they rip through it in no time (a month) only carrying the one grain.

Now, though, today, my fun is on a brief hiatus; I hope it's brief. And it's not through anything I did, or attempted to do; it's through the weather, or from the weather. The weather turned off bad. We got literally dumped on with snow. It's everywhere, clinging to the trees, scattered and piled up all over the yard, as far as the eye can see. The branches were drooping ponderously. It reminded me of that magazine Al Bundy used to read, Big-Uns. In fact, the branch that the feeder was hooked to was drooping so far down, thanks to the weight of the snow, that the feeder was literally on the ground! I have since disconnected it till I get it cleaned.

But obviously it hasn't made any difference to our feathered friends, because they have not made an appearance today. I have looked out probably six times and haven't seen hide nor hair of them. They've totally vacated. My first thought, They flew farther south. Then I thought, No, they're just staying cooped up in their nests. Perhaps in their little world all flights have been grounded. All feet on deck, to clean snow out of nests. We ate yesterday, today we work.

It's amazing how similar we are. I had to go out today and clear out the driveway of all this crap. So I know how much work it is. You haven't got time for flying. You haven't even got time for eating. But pretty soon I will get the feeder cleaned out and replenished, because I'm expecting they'll be doubly hungry tomorrow.

I really have this weird feeling, What did our feathered friends do before I started feeding them? How did they ever survive?

New Year's Eve: Judgment Of The Storm

Well, it's New Year's Eve again, a day for looking back on the old year passing as well as the promises of the new year coming. Of course you always hope when you reach it that looking back will be a happy time, and looking forward will be even happier. Alas, it doesn't always work out that way.

I woke up this morning feeling a little tired. The dog's had something wrong with her, and I heard her loudly hacking about 2 in the morning. I got up to see what was going on and there was a little yellow puddle of spit-up on the rug by my bed. I took it to the hamper, the dog following me, who then made signs like she needed to go out. We went out and she took a No. 2, the whole thing then sticking to her fur and needing to be cleaned off in the sink. I felt a little nauseous and couldn't get back to sleep.

I finally did doze off, and woke up to a winter wonderland in progress -- snow. It's snowing still, so this must be the day for it. I had breakfast, the toast burnt (need to check the dial each time) and my eggs messed up, meaning the yolk was hard. I thought, Crap, if this is how New Year's is going to go ... but I said I wouldn't be depressed. The snow is coming down, it's white and piling up like crazy, I need to see it as something of a promise, a new start.

A new start was what I would have! Wouldn't it be great to go out in the storm, there to eat a few flakes as they fell, thereby saving myself a little extra work later shoveling. And I could use the time to take personal inventory, matching beautifully, I hoped, the newness of the day to the oldness of my life. I took a look in the mirror, swallowing my morning pills. What a lot of lines. What's happening to me?

I went out and kicked a bit of snow and immediately stubbed my toe on a big rock. It didn't hurt terribly, so I walked on, thinking, thinking, ever thinking -- I can't stop, sometimes my thinking is torture. Thinking of everything I've done wrong in the course of the year, and how tomorrow's not likely to be any better. I'm the guy, you may recall, who brags about his willpower. Well, so much for willpower; I'm still eating bad, not getting enough exercise, I'm tired all the time, and my dog's sick. If I don't die, it'll be a miracle.

In my walk I thought I'd wander away from the yard, get down the street, and maybe my perspective would be different. Of course my feet and legs aren't used to lifting that much wet snow, with more coming down all the time. I'm thinking, I could just collapse here and die of exposure. There's nobody out today, they wouldn't find me for a week. Or I could test my limits and keep going, which I did.

Along the way I started thinking of all my regrets and personal failings. Here I am, almost 60, one foot in the grave, and what have I really accomplished? One day is about the same as any other, there's never any personal progress. Sure, I fill out the Sudoku in the newspaper once in a while, the easy ones. I write my blog. And the dog needs me; she's on her last legs. But that's it. My big hopes of sailing the world, winning a fortune in Monaco, owning a picturesque chalet in Switzerland, writing a bestseller, being the Fifth Beatle, and becoming the CEO of IHOP, are obviously doomed to failure. I can't even adequately convey the misery this gives me.

Having walked about as far as I physically could, I looked over. What?! The dog had gotten herself trapped in a big wet drift. I had to go over and use up 99% of my remaining strength getting her and myself out, once I'd become trapped. That meant I only had 1% strength left to make it all the way home! Which, think about it, it can't be done! I have no reserve.

But somehow I got home. I don't know how. Maybe the dog dragged me -- uphill. She seems out of breath, more so than usual. I was seeing these terrible red flashes when I blinked my eyes right before I (apparently) passed out. Then I don't remember anything else. But here I am, typing this. I have a cup of hot coffee, although I spilled the first cup and burnt my leg.

Yet, I'm still hoping for a Happy New Year -- and even if it's with my last dying breath, that's going to be my wish for you, too -- but I just don't see how it's going to happen...

Whittier The Snowman

Finally, a Christmas character I can actually like, who brings the true joy of the season to all. No troubles, no conflict, he's simply happy. Whittier the Snowman.

I have to tell you, I'm really sick of conflict in Christmas shows. I was watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer the other day, and this is what I'm talking about. Rudolph is bullied by everyone from his father to the younger reindeer to Santa Claus himself! Bullied because of his red nose. I'm sick of it. I can understand the younger reindeer; they're idiots. But his dad? And Santa Claus? How terrible. Santa's supposed to be a good guy, not a bully. So Rudolph, along with his similarly rejected dentist friend, have to leave the compound and run away on their own.

The conflict doesn't stop there, of course. There's the Bumble (the Abominable), the Island of Misfit Toys, and Burl Ives shivering and about to catch his death. There's so much trouble, I'm more depressed after watching it than I was before. You only have to hope Christmas will be foggy every year, just so Santa won't be stupid enough to reject Rudolph again.

One of these shows is on TV right now as I write this, Santa Claus is Comin' to Town. I'm not watching it because I hate it passionately. I think that's the one where the town outlaws Christmas, or outlaws toys, or some such nonsense. Like the Republicans, they're violently opposed to common sense. So everyone's miserable, until something happens -- what I can't remember -- but it has a happy ending. I hate conflict. All I want, all I seriously desire at Christmas, is more or less a slice of life in some little Alpine village where everyone is absolutely happy, giving gifts, with no need to exchange because something's the wrong size. No one tries to outlaw anything everyone likes. It's the ending of Scrooge without the rest.

Frosty the Snowman was on a few days ago. I'm not crazy about this show either. A little because it's obvious they're just giving a stupid story to flesh out the song. But mostly because there's conflict in it. There's an evil magician (or whatever), then there's the kids' sadness with Frosty melting. But they deal with it creatively, in that "Christmas snow" can never remain melted. It comes back on Christmas Day, and as for Frosty, since just living on Christmas Day isn't much of a happy ending, he goes with Santa to live at the North Pole. Where, no doubt, Santa will bully him till he moves to Antarctica.

By the way, in Rudolph Santa also belittles the elves' song about filling Santa's shelves. He complains to Mama that he can't stand hearing that song, and that he wishes they'd all become dentists and run away so they'd finally leave him alone. And Mama's not exactly a benign character, since she's explicitly trying to fatten Santa up. In fact, he goes from thin to pants-poppingly fat in a quick cut from one scene to another. That's one dangerous wife!

Must we suffer everlasting conflict ... at Christmas time? It's even in the original Christmas Story itself, we have to suffer Herod trying to kill Jesus. It's a relief that Jesus grows up very fast and conquers the Roman Empire as His first official act. A hero I can admire.

Which brings us to another hero I can admire -- making two, Jesus and Whittier the Snowman.  But Whittier's story is even better than Jesus', because it has absolutely no conflict. Because your mind should be free and clear at the holidays, not having to put up with pain and anxiety.

Whittier's story goes like this. He's created one day by some happy children. He comes to life, and lives to a ripe old age and never dies. His age just gets riper all the time, but with no apparent aging. The people in his town share in his magnificent powers, living forever, or until Christmas is put away. Everyone is very very happy. Then spring comes and he melts -- happily, with no one mourning. All conflict is vanquished till after the holiday, at which point everyone's life gets back on track. See that? A happy story without conflict -- and I just read it again -- absolutely no contradictions to resolve.

The Train's Weather Report

I've been doing my part to be self sufficient when it comes to getting the weather. Like the pioneers. They didn't get weather from TV or the internet. They did it themselves. Anyway, with the internet, everyone's always wanting to "save bandwidth," so I hate to waste it; why not look outside occasionally and see what it's doing for myself?

The obvious problem is that you can only see the weather happening right around you. If I had a big tower or something to climb on, then you could see it across town, but, still, that's not very far. So I started checking around, talking to some people, and they told me something they were already doing that I hadn't thought of. Keep an eye on trains coming through town!

So instead of looking on the internet everyday, like I used to, and wasting bandwidth, I've been going to the train station, along with a bunch of other people, and we're getting the weather report firsthand! And it's a lot of fun. The trains come through, we're looking at them, and it tells us just about everything we want to know!

"Just about" everything we want to know is the key phrase. Because the tracks only go east and west. If something's going on north or south of here, we don't know about it. The workaround we've got for that is to just make an average of east and west and give half of it to the north and half to the south. And anyway, my memory of the weather from TV is that it tends to go west to east, so it's no big deal.

So here's some of the stuff we've learned in the last few days: (And if you're out west, maybe you can tell me if we've got it right.) Two days ago a train came through from the west with snow on it. There was snow on every car, indicating to me that the snow out west was pretty severe. And you know how they have a reverse engine on the back of a train? There was even snow on the snowplow, which is really weird for an engine going backward! That had to be some deep snow!

Now, that was just one train. Then there were other trains coming through that didn't have snow on them. Our conclusion was that either the non-snowy trains hadn't come from as far away, or that they'd been on a sidetrack long enough for it to melt.

In addition to snow, we've seen all the other weather come through, including rain, hail, and fog. If you see a bunch of wet cars, that means rain. If there's denting, that's hail. And if you can barely see the train at all, that's fog. A train being a heavy and fast thing, if fog's just sitting out there, it's going to get run over. If boxcars are open, they fill up, and next thing you know, there's fog everywhere. For a few minutes, even after the train gets out of town, we have fog. Then it all evaporates, or catches a train going the other direction.

Talking to some of the old-timers, it's a lot of fun to hear what all they've seen in the past. One guy said he's been coming down here since he was a little kid, like 60 years ago. In fact, he's missing a leg from the time he tried to scoop up a handful of hail back then. I had to tell him how inspiring that was for me, that someone would be so dedicated to getting the weather and saving bandwidth, even all those years ago.

From A Mountain To A Molehill Of Snow

I've got a mountain of snow in my yard, thanks to the snow being removed in the driveway.

There it is ... and there it will stay, until it melts. Which I fully expect will happen before August.

I walk by it and think of how heavy it is. Just a shovelful of snow is heavy, think what a whole mountain about 10 feet high would weigh. I always thought it'd be fun to make a little cave and go in, but it'd kill you if it caved in.

But no matter how much it weighs now, eventually it will be no match for the heat of spring. Bit by bit it will go away, and the grass will be greening under it. Somehow. How it's able to exist under there without getting oxygen, I don't know. Unless it gets it from the snow.

Anyway, that's science. And science works whether I know anything about it or not.

It's a great thing to see it in the spring when it's just about zapped out. I like seeing that last little bit. No snow anywhere else, but there's still a last little bit from this mountain, the last to go. When it gets small enough I'm over there whacking it with a shovel to make it melt faster. And even that's hard.

But you go in, watch TV, take a shower, whatever ... and the next time you go out, it's about done for.

OK...The Snow Guy Came

I chanced having my account canceled and called the snow removal place to see if I was "on the schedule." I was very nice, like you have to be.

I hate to say exactly how much I grovelled, but I could only imagine how busy they'd been, etc.

Within an hour they were here with the blade and got it accomplished.

Worked Up In A Constant State Of Agitation

I'm thinking maybe my natural state is a state of agitation. Every little thing agitates me.

It's much like I said about my rage a few months ago. Rage is usually thought of as something to avoid, something be ashamed of, something that's not good for you. But maybe they're all wrong. Maybe it's good just to be who you are.

My current headache is the status of my snow removal. The snow guys showed up and did a halfway job, failing almost entirely to scoop out my driveway. If it weren't for the wind patterns, swirling around behind the house, that part wouldn't be clear. They certainly didn't do it. Then at the end, the city truck came by and left behind about 2 feet of snow, like a snow berm.

So what was I doing after lunch today? Scooping out the driveway with a shovel so I could get the car out. Even then I had to barrel through it. And there were other complications. It's like one of those time travel movies. Anytime anyone does anything or fails to do something, there are ripple effects that no one could predict. That's the kind of noon hour it was.

The day is wearing on and no sign of the truant snow removers. Meaning my ire, my agitation, my rage is simmering, smoldering, and is about to spill over. I feel the creeping crud of anger starting to get the best of me. My rage is stewing, seething, about to bust out in a full scream, then later, surely it will be, I'll succumb to a meltdown like no other.

Where are those guys? Do they not know their business? Do they not know what snow removal entails? Isn't the term explicit enough, clearly obvious? That it at least has some tangential relationship to the actual removal of snow? The snow falls from the sky. It accumulates. It stays there, that is until a snow removal person removes it. That's my understanding of the situation. But of course I could be wrong!

I can picture my snow removal people in my mind's eye, thinking to themselves that they've done a great couple days' work, that their customers are well satisfied with their best efforts.

I'd love to give them a piece of my mind, if such things were allowed.

Take Your Sweet Time, Snow Guy

If you see my snow scooping guy, tell him I'm in no hurry.

The one thing I can't afford to do is make him mad.

And nothing makes a snow scooper madder than to ask him when he's going to show up.

They follow their own inner clock, the same way cats find their way home when they're lost.

You'd be mad too if you were expected to scoop out 75 customers the same day.

But that's usually the way it goes with snow. It snows all over town at the same time.

It's not like the garbage service, the east side on one day, the west side the next.

Just because you're paying the snow guy doesn't mean you can say anything.

Because they have plenty of customers and will gladly drop you if you get lippy.

And getting lippy is basically saying anything.

You Gotta Be A Diplomat With Servants

If you're too harsh or too demanding with your mechanic, he'll throw a screwdriver across the room, cuss you out, and that's it. Or he'll smolder and wait till you leave, pretending to be cooled down, then gouge your radiator before you get back, or cut your tubes.

Don't ever criticize or question a mechanic, unless of you course you question him like a child, meaning you don't know a thing about a thing. They don't mind that so much. It's good for their ego.

The same thing about guys or companies that mow your yard or scoop your snow. They know they have a million other potential customers, they don't need you. So any little demand, phrased improperly or with insistence or with anger, is going to be your final one. Because they'll be outta here.

I knew of a grass cutting place, and now that I think of it they also did snow. You didn't want to say Boo to them. And a guy I knew said more than that to them -- a guy without a diplomatic streak, who obviously thought he could talk to them frankly and without fear. That was it! They're outta here. Cut your own grass! Scoop your own snow!

Snow guys are especially bad -- let's say they're just snow guys and don't cut your grass too. Because when it comes to snow you're a lot more desperate than you are with grass. Plus, when it comes to grass, everything's staggered as far as schedules. It doesn't matter if they cut your grass today or three days from now. Everyone's grass is growing at different rates, etc. But with snow, everyone needs it done now, because it snows the same time for everyone.

So the snow guy is automatically overwhelmed every time there's snow -- they're snowed in, if you'll forgive a little unsolicited humor. So if the snow guy has the slightest tendency toward having a short fuse, you're going to set him off if you make any kind of demand, like "Hey, where are you? Aren't you going to scoop my snow, you crumb?" They know they've got you, so they can pack up their blade and leave.

The only way to handle a snow guy is with the most delicate and refined diplomacy. Get on his good side by commiserating with him about how busy his day's been. "You've really been working hard! Wow!"

Then, when he invariably does a bad job, just hold your tongue, keep your wits about you. Because it will snow again someday and you'll be at their mercy again. When it comes to snow, a half job is about as good as a full job. As long as you can get through.

The North Never Melts

Snow blanketed the entire world the other day, preceded by hours with rain that became ice. Everything was a slick, hard mess. We were hoping for an early onset to spring, but as it turned out, those hopes were dashed with winter's surge. Hoping ... it never seems to affect the weather.

Then, as with most things, the days brought differences in the outlook. It might be really cold at night, but the sun's rays have a hidden warmth. It beams down and when it touches the chilled earth, the chilled earth begins to loosen up, pat itself on the arms a bit to get the circulation going, then shed its coat, sweater, and long johns, finally to find itself warm.

I took my coffee grounds out to spill them on the snow -- I love the look of coffee grounds splattered everywhere -- and when I got there most of the snow was gone. Clear over by the well, under the big maple tree, there was still some snow. But that was about it. Also over by the fence. There's places there, I'm sure, where the sun's rays never make it. It's a tangle of grass that mice have arranged to live in.

Those places are on the south, I might add. Meaning, there actually is plenty of snow left, and ice under it. But you've got to go north to find it. I could look, but I don't think I will. North is only a few feet away, just on the other side of our north wall. I'm not that interested. I already just know it. Because I have experience with life. I know the north never melts. Yes, maybe by the time July gets here, even things on the north will finally catch up to the south.

Just chalk it up as another reason I think the north is not as good as the south. It's a very shadowy place, where mankind finds an uneasy welcome at best. You could die going north.

A Snow Fort

At the height of the blizzard the other day I kept seeing flash by the window a kid running. I just figured someone's rushing home, but I kept seeing it. Finally I decided to look out and make sure he was OK, since it was cold, windy, blustery, miserable.

He was over there digging a hole in a drift, which must have been a very hard bit of snow not to cave in on him. Why he was running by I don't know. That part's still a mystery. When I started looking he was crawling deep into it, pushing snow out.

It made me remember fondly some of our own childish antics from long ago, snow forts, snowball fights. I always had this one big thought as a kid that was never tested, although I think of it when I see coverage of avalanches on TV. My aunt's yard when down from the sidewalk, then back up to her house. I used to wonder, what if you were in that depressed part and suddenly snow covered you. Would you freeze to death, suffocate, or would you be able to push away some to allow yourself room to breathe, assuming air would show up from above? My own optimism in this thinking always had myself surviving easily, but I don't know now.

We used to make some snow houses, attempt an igloo type of structure, which is a lot harder to make than you'd guess, mostly though like this kid, digging a hole in a drift and crawling back there. If it caved in, no big disaster, except, I guess, the roof might weight 150 pounds.

At first I was thinking the kid should go in his house. The wind was crazy. But if he was comfortable doing it, it's all the same, good for him.