Little m Long a

Dr. Peter Venkman:
This city is headed for a disaster of biblical proportions.

Mayor:
What do you mean, “biblical”?

Dr Ray Stantz:
What he means is Old Testament, Mr. Mayor, real wrath of God type
stuff.

Venkman:
Exactly.

Stantz:
Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies! Rivers and seas boiling!


Dr. Egon Spengler:
Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes, volcanoes…

Winston Zeddemore:
The dead rising from the grave!

Dr. Peter Venkman:
Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together… mass hysteria!
Ghostbusters (1984)

Or to quote another of my all-time favorites: It’s inconceivable!

I hear tell of winter wonderment
in the desert.  Enough wonderment, I’m told that there were appearances
of real, live snowmen and a few snow angels.  Meanwhile, in America’s Armpit Heartland temperatures today are expected to reach the 70′s.

Oh, wait…..that’s the percent chance of more of the rain/sleet/slushy
yuckiness we are experiencing presently.  Supposedly, a front is moving
this way with promises of colder weather and the fluffy stuff those in
California and Nevada are struggling to identify.  It’s called snow,
people.  You’ll learn to loathe it!  Actually, you probably won’t.
Chances are it will be gone as fast as it arrived, long before the
novelty has had a chance to fade.

Which can be a good thing.  Novelty, that is.  Novelty is exciting, it’s fun and it brings
us to places we thought were long in our past.  Youthful places when a
change in the weather could change the course of our day or week.
There is very little that compares to the jubilation of a small child
as he or she runs screaming into the yard, arms extended, mouth agape
and tongue out attempting to capture the falling snowflakes.

Children tossing snowballs or building snowmen.  Sledding through the
yard or just falling back to make snow angels.  It’s almost as warming
to my heart as the hot chocolate and marshmallows that inevitably
accompany any snow day.

I’m trying to talk myself back into liking the snow.  Can you tell?
The snow and I have a fairly adversarial relationship and I must admit,
though once enamored, the novelty has worn off.  I suppose countless
hours of shoveling can do that to a person.

 Old Man Winter may not be asleep just yet, but he’s definitely sporting his Superman pajamas and sipping on a warm glass of milk.  The last embers of the fire are smoldering, covers have been turned down, he’s finished reading Goodnight Moon and The Velveteen Rabbit and eaten of the chocolate left on his pillow by housekeeping.  Yes, folks, winter is coming to an end here in America’s Armpit and I could not be more excited.  It’s been long, harsh, physically and mentally draining.  Frigid temperatures, snow, ice, sleet, rain all repeated in a dizzying cycle over the past five months.  But the thick gray clouds of winter gloom and misery have broken and for two days consecutively the sun has been shining bright.

Oh, it’s still chilly (31 this morning) and the heater is still on but I can see the light at the end of winter.  Really?, you ask.  It’s 31 degrees, you say.  On my thermometer that’s still freezing.  What makes you think winter is over? 

My flowers have started to bloom!  OK.  So not bloom just yet but they are forcing themselves from their winter slumber and stems and leaves are emerging from the ground.  It’s only a matter of weeks or even days before I’ll get to enjoy my tulips and ….. well, I know there’s tulips.  I’ll have to see what else blooms before definitive identification takes place.  You see, my gardening techniques are probably not what one might consider emulatable.  Most people map out their flower beds lovingly planting each bulb making sure the spacing is correct and even go so far as to label the plots. 

I hail from a different school of gardening.  Dig a trench, empty the contents of the bag into the trench, cover the trench with dirt.  Move on.  No labels, no maps, no weekend consuming labor intensive gardening schemes.  Just dig, plant, cover.  That way there’s more time to move on to more enjoyable weekend activities–frosty adult beverages and ball games.

Which brings me to the second tell-tale sign that winter is soon to be a thing of the past.  Baseball!  Sure, they’re wearing sleeves and jackets but they are playing and that means winter is a thing of the past.  Am I a fan?  No.  No, no.  I can’t recall the last game I actually watched start to finish.  Oh, yeah I can.  Two years ago the weekend of May 19, Indians vs. Pirates at Jacob’s Field.  Indians won.  How do I remember this?  My wife and I had taken a trip to Cleveland to see the game and a Pearl Jam Concert.  While neither events were alarmingly memorable (my wife would argue that any time with Eddie Vedder regardless of how many other thousands of people are sharing that time is alarmingly memorable) I recall the day because I had quit smoking the day before we left, May 18.  Hence, that weekend will forever be entrenched in my memory. 

And finally, and this may be the most significant indicator, the ice cream shops are opening back up!  Or as my kids would say—

   ICE CREAM!!!!!

It’s been a crazy, crazy, crazy week. 
March 5 (Ice) and then… March 9 (Snow) oh well..Peace out!

On the bright side–we got to spring forward this weekend.

They are calling it the storm of the century, epic proportions of snowfall in a matter of 36 hours.  It started right as forecasters called it, 10:00am. and continued heavy probably 4 inches or more by 4:30pm.  And it kept coming.  We could have gone to the grocery store, stocked up on water, juice, milk and propane.  But we didn’t.  We could have just hunkered down in our living room, popped in some dvd’s, prepared some popcorn and snuggled under some blankets ignoring the accumulating powder outside the windows.  But we didn’t.  We could have packed some bags, loaded up the family truckster (van) and fled, south to warmer climes.  But we didn’t.

So just what did I do to weather the blizzard of ought eight? Well, we did pack some bags, I put on my favorite Hawaiian Shirt and sandals (it’s my passive aggressive way of flipping the bird at the storm), loaded up the family truckster (van) and drove NORTH!!! Into the eye of the storm.  That’s right, people.  We were only supposed to be getting 8-12″.  We went to where they were expecting 12-18″.  

And why might you ask would any sane and reasonable person do such a ludicrous thing?  Let’s get something straight here, #1) I’m not sane—-or reasonable.  B.) No one in my immediate family should ever be considered sane—or reasonable, and #3)  THE SHOW MUST GO ON.  I called.  Unless the governor declares a state of emergency or the mayor says, “Stay in your homes, you idiots!”  the show will go on as scheduled. 

It’s a Wicked storm, It’s some Wicked snowfall, I’m Wicked crazy, and I’m going to be one of a handful of people stupid enough to drive 3 1/2 hours in a blizzard to see the final weekend performance of the Broadway Tour of Wicked.  This had better be a damn good show!

Two days ago it was nearly seventy degrees outside.  The wind was blowing, sun shining intermittently, birds were singing, children laughing and a warm feeling of hope cradled us all…  OK  So maybe it wasn’t all that great, but I did open up the windows and the kids played outside all afternoon, in short sleeves.

This morning it was twenty five degrees and I woke up to this:

That’s a solid ice covered tree with an extra coating of snow for good measure.

Not so much as I woke up to that huge pile of ice covered limbs as I went to bed with it last night.  I had to clear enough of them from the driveway so that my wife could get to work this morning.

I’m gonna kill that Groundhog if I ever catch up to him!

P.S.  Some of you may recall I’ve recently had some problems with that same tree.  I was going to have it chopped down.  Mother Nature is pruning it for me.