In which your humble narrator remembers to answer the queries in the mailbag.
Dear Rotten Baby,
I live near the St. Croix River and there's this weird smell around my house lately. Sort of like charred Gouda? What's up with that?
-Cheesily Confused
Dear C.C.,
The offending odor wafting over the frozen St. Croix is the state of Wisconsin going up in flames. Since "America's Dairyland" contains the highest concentration of cultured dairy products in the nation, you're experiencing some off-gassing from the labor struggles of our neighbors to the east.
You see, C.C., in the past election everyone decided that they were pissed off because a historic financial collapse 15 years in the making wasn't solved in 18 months. Therefore the peoples were filled with anger and decided pretty much to vote against incumbents all over the place to "send a message." That message was "I is super angry! Also dumb! Mostly I just want someone to validate my feelings because I am a whiny, petulant crybaby electorate." And now everything is perfect forever. Hooray!
Dear Rotten Baby,
Will the stupid winter never end? Seriously? 74.9 inches of snow so far this winter. I'm tired of looking at it, driving in it and shoveling it.
-Tired of The Snow
Deat TOTS,
Your imitation of a repining weasel leaves me breathless. Of course winter will end. What apparently won't end is your constant litany of complaint about things over which you can exert no influence what-so-ever. Please, learn a lesson from the local Scandihoovians and bear this burden stoically for a change.
Dear Rotten Baby,
While it's clear to everyone that you make up letters to answer in this feature, you seem especially vituperative lately. Does setting up imbecilic straw men to pummel make you feel like some sort of big man?
-Concerned Reader
Dear C.R.
Yes.
Showing posts with label Winterfulness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Winterfulness. Show all posts
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
January Can Suck It
In which your humble narrator crowns a new most heinous month.
Named for the two-faced, Roman jerk deity, Janus, January is our most iniquitous month. It's cold. It's dark. It's still snowing, and it's long.
The furnace needs to be replaced. The new roof is leaking in at least one place, maybe two. There is nowhere else to pile snow from the driveway or the garage apron. I've taken to shoveling at night, filling a wheel barrow with filthy snow and surreptitiously dumping it on the property of neighbors who have offended my delicate sensibilities in some way.*
The newly Ph.Deeded wife has still not gotten a raise.
The children have been sick all month. Everyone had a horrible cold last week and both kids got pink eye. This morning I woke up unable to open my left eye. It was cemented shut with dried eye filth. Thank you, so much Child #2, who thought "NO TOUCHING DADDY'S FACE" was some hilarious invitation to a game of "smear mucus into Daddy's eyeballs."
It's an inauspicious start to 2011. February's probably going to suck too, but at least it's short and it can't possibly be colder and darker than it has been.
*"What a hideous jacket, you get three wheel barrows full of dirty snow on your doorstep."
Named for the two-faced, Roman jerk deity, Janus, January is our most iniquitous month. It's cold. It's dark. It's still snowing, and it's long.
The furnace needs to be replaced. The new roof is leaking in at least one place, maybe two. There is nowhere else to pile snow from the driveway or the garage apron. I've taken to shoveling at night, filling a wheel barrow with filthy snow and surreptitiously dumping it on the property of neighbors who have offended my delicate sensibilities in some way.*
The newly Ph.Deeded wife has still not gotten a raise.
The children have been sick all month. Everyone had a horrible cold last week and both kids got pink eye. This morning I woke up unable to open my left eye. It was cemented shut with dried eye filth. Thank you, so much Child #2, who thought "NO TOUCHING DADDY'S FACE" was some hilarious invitation to a game of "smear mucus into Daddy's eyeballs."
It's an inauspicious start to 2011. February's probably going to suck too, but at least it's short and it can't possibly be colder and darker than it has been.
*"What a hideous jacket, you get three wheel barrows full of dirty snow on your doorstep."
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Scrapbooking for Jesus with my seven children while losing weight by climbing rocks and making sweet love to my bicycle
In which your humble narrator surveys the interwebs and finds them wanting.
The fine folks at Google, in their zeal to index everything, changed the functionality of the "Next Blog" button featured on the navigation bar of most Blogger blogs. Rather than taking you to a completely random Blogger blog (possibly in another exciting language) it now takes you to a blog that Google thinks you will find interesting based on what you've written on your blog. What follows is an unscientific survey of the blogs available to me via the Next Blog button (all within 3 clicks).
Actually the philatelist's blog was the only interesting one.
*I have spent at least an hour trying to imagine what their parties must be like. My only conclusion: off the hook.
The fine folks at Google, in their zeal to index everything, changed the functionality of the "Next Blog" button featured on the navigation bar of most Blogger blogs. Rather than taking you to a completely random Blogger blog (possibly in another exciting language) it now takes you to a blog that Google thinks you will find interesting based on what you've written on your blog. What follows is an unscientific survey of the blogs available to me via the Next Blog button (all within 3 clicks).
- 15,000 "family" blogs focused on frequently photographed children named Camryn, Tamryn, Payton, Braden, Jayden, Caden, Aiden, Ain't Misbehavin', Desmond, Connor, Tanner, Planner, Delilah, Rylie, Kylie and Wingnut.
- 12,000 blogs with the word "ramblings" heavily featured in the title or description.
- 9,000 blogs where people talk about Jesus... a lot.
- 6,000 blogs about scrap-booking (many overlap with the above categories.)
- 4,000 blogs about losing weight.
- 2,000 blogs describing climbing up big rocks in exhaustive detail.
- 750 blogs about people and their unnatural relationships with their bicycles.
- 500 blogs with "embracing winter," somewhere in the first few posts, because really, seasons need hugs.
- 50 blogs about making life more simple by blogging about simplicity.
- 1 blog about an international organization of philatelists.*
Actually the philatelist's blog was the only interesting one.
*I have spent at least an hour trying to imagine what their parties must be like. My only conclusion: off the hook.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Snow Fail
In which your humble narrator climbs on ladders, scrapes ice off of things, and wonder where the hell the "warmer than average" El Niño winter forecasted by the National Weather Service is.
The Snowpocalypse was a bust. We got about 5 hours of cold rain on top of 12+ inches of snow on Christmas, soaking the snow, turning the bottom 2 inches to slush. Then it snowed another 3-4 inches on top of that. Then it melted some more and then hard froze turning every horizontal, and most sloped surfaces to ice. Needless to say, the slush/ice removal has been a real pain.
So I've been up and down a ladder unfreezing all the downspouts so that the ice doesn't push our new gutters right off of the house. Too much fun.
On a more positive note, I got a new cookbook from the in-laws for my birthday. My birthday was more than a month ago, but I just got the package from New Hampshire. Apparently the shipping label came off and it got sent to the dead letter office in Atlanta. (Which is funny because the only other dead letter office is in St. Paul... about 10 minutes from our house.) It's the Veselka Cookbook. So I made pierogies since they're exactly the sort of bad-for-you, fatty, fiddly food you should eat in the middle of winter to keep your coat shiny. They we quite tasty. Child #1 even ate a couple of bites the first night we had them. Of course, on the second night he declared that he didn't like them any more and would not eat them. He's still on a weird jag.
On a second, also positive note, Child #2 has decided to sleep through the night regularly. Thus, my power of cogitation and command of the lexicon have returned with vigor. Huzzah!
The Snowpocalypse was a bust. We got about 5 hours of cold rain on top of 12+ inches of snow on Christmas, soaking the snow, turning the bottom 2 inches to slush. Then it snowed another 3-4 inches on top of that. Then it melted some more and then hard froze turning every horizontal, and most sloped surfaces to ice. Needless to say, the slush/ice removal has been a real pain.
So I've been up and down a ladder unfreezing all the downspouts so that the ice doesn't push our new gutters right off of the house. Too much fun.
On a more positive note, I got a new cookbook from the in-laws for my birthday. My birthday was more than a month ago, but I just got the package from New Hampshire. Apparently the shipping label came off and it got sent to the dead letter office in Atlanta. (Which is funny because the only other dead letter office is in St. Paul... about 10 minutes from our house.) It's the Veselka Cookbook. So I made pierogies since they're exactly the sort of bad-for-you, fatty, fiddly food you should eat in the middle of winter to keep your coat shiny. They we quite tasty. Child #1 even ate a couple of bites the first night we had them. Of course, on the second night he declared that he didn't like them any more and would not eat them. He's still on a weird jag.
On a second, also positive note, Child #2 has decided to sleep through the night regularly. Thus, my power of cogitation and command of the lexicon have returned with vigor. Huzzah!
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Snowpocalypse!
In which your humble narrator sharpens his ice picks, tightens the bolts on the snow rake and prepares to meet his doom.
Snowpocalypse!* Snowmageddon!** Snowtal Annihilation! Snownami!
If we don't get at least a foot and half out of this storm after all the hype, I'm going to be peevish. Wife-a-roo is off work for four days. I went to the liquor store Monday and the grocery yesterday because I'm smart. See y'all after the thaw.
* This is actually being used frequently on local teevee.
** This too.
Snowpocalypse!* Snowmageddon!** Snowtal Annihilation! Snownami!
If we don't get at least a foot and half out of this storm after all the hype, I'm going to be peevish. Wife-a-roo is off work for four days. I went to the liquor store Monday and the grocery yesterday because I'm smart. See y'all after the thaw.
* This is actually being used frequently on local teevee.
** This too.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Winterfulness
In which your humble narrator ventures out onto the frozen tundra.
It finally warmed up enough to take the children outside to play in the snow. Sister-of-Me and I ran over to the University with children in tow so she could turn in a paper. Then we came back to the house promising Child #1 that he could play in the snow. In the car:
So we get home and I drag him crying into the house. And I rummaged through the closet and found the snow pants while he's veering ever closer to a meltdown. He looked up at them, stopped crying and said, "Snowpants are red. I will wear them." If only I had known that the color was of paramount importance.
But first, we had to wrestle the baby into her snowsuit.
It finally warmed up enough to take the children outside to play in the snow. Sister-of-Me and I ran over to the University with children in tow so she could turn in a paper. Then we came back to the house promising Child #1 that he could play in the snow. In the car:
Child #1: I will shovel snow.
Me: We're going to play in the snow but we have to go inside first so you can get your snow pants on.
Child #1: I will not wear snow pants.
Me: Yes you will. It's cold and then your regular pants will stay dry.
Child #1: No! I will not wear snow pants. I don't like snow pants any more.
Me: You don't even know what snow pants are.
Child #1: (with increasing volume) I don't like them!
So we get home and I drag him crying into the house. And I rummaged through the closet and found the snow pants while he's veering ever closer to a meltdown. He looked up at them, stopped crying and said, "Snowpants are red. I will wear them." If only I had known that the color was of paramount importance.
But first, we had to wrestle the baby into her snowsuit.
Then we lost her since she camouflaged herself into the rug.
We found her eventually and then proceeded outside for much winterful fun.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
It's Thursday, so that must mean I hate things (Winter Edition)
In which your humble narrator comments on five examples of awfulness, worthy of hate.
- Undergraduates complaining about how cold it is when they're wearing what amounts to pajamas to class. It's cold. Wear layers. Sweats and a jacket aren't going to cut it when the high is 9 degrees.
- SUV drivers who have four wheel drive and still park 4 feet from the curb, because, you know, it's all snowy and shit.
- Black ice.
- Trying to get change out of your pockets to feed the parking meter while wearing gloves.
- Frozen boogers.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Housebound Housewifery
In which your humble narrator comments on the banality of his day.
It snowed about 8 inches. It's only 10 degrees and very windy. I'm stuck in the house all day with the children.
Wife-a-roo sent me a link to a Salon blog by Aaron Traister which pretty much sums up my existence these days. A particularly salient paragraph:
Last night I was in the kitchen with the children. Child #2 was sitting in her high chair screaming unhappily and refusing all toys or diversions while Child #1 was merrily running head first into the kitchen cabinets and trying valiantly to drop cast-iron cookware on his feet.** Wife-a-roo was late because of the snowstorm and I was trying to cook dinner (modest pasta dish). It occurred to me: "If I'm going to live the life of a 1950's housewife, I'm pretty sure I deserve some of the pills."
* I have righted Child #2 eight times during the writing of this post.
** He still has a cold. Colds make him insane and self-injurious.
It snowed about 8 inches. It's only 10 degrees and very windy. I'm stuck in the house all day with the children.
Wife-a-roo sent me a link to a Salon blog by Aaron Traister which pretty much sums up my existence these days. A particularly salient paragraph:
"My view of parenting and its effect on the adult mind is particularly sour right now since my daughter has just entered into the most difficult stage of development. She is 10 months old, and while most people would point to the fabled “terrible twos” as the most challenging and exhausting time with their young ones, the interval between 8 and 15 months is almost indescribably difficult for me, especially because it is making me not good at words plus how to use them."Child #2 is 7+ months old now and at the incredibly obnoxious stage where she is increasingly mobile, but only in uni-directional pathways. For example: she can maneuver from a seated position to lying either on her back or her stomach, but is unable or unwilling to move from either of those positions to any other, more satisfactory position. This necessitates righting her or rearranging her approximately every 2.5 minutes* since she doesn't like lying down: the position, but only lying down: the act. Thank God for overalls.
Last night I was in the kitchen with the children. Child #2 was sitting in her high chair screaming unhappily and refusing all toys or diversions while Child #1 was merrily running head first into the kitchen cabinets and trying valiantly to drop cast-iron cookware on his feet.** Wife-a-roo was late because of the snowstorm and I was trying to cook dinner (modest pasta dish). It occurred to me: "If I'm going to live the life of a 1950's housewife, I'm pretty sure I deserve some of the pills."
* I have righted Child #2 eight times during the writing of this post.
** He still has a cold. Colds make him insane and self-injurious.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The White Menace is Coming! Surely We Shall Perish Anon!
In which your humble narrator procures medication for his daughter gets his media criticism on and discusses the cultural differences between the frigid tundra of Minnesota where he lives and the smoggy, semi-southern hills of Cincinnati from whence he came.
Child #2 has an ear infection. We were supposed to get round 2 flu shots for both children yesterday but the on-again-off-again fever of Child #2 spiked once more yesterday morning so we took her in to see the doctor. The regular baby-doctor is off on Mondays so we saw a tall, laconic family practice doctor of Scandinavian descent, named "Olav Olson" or "Hjalmar Carlson" or "Lindstrom P. Nordic" or "Sven McSwedish" or something. He seemed delighted that we spoke in low, measured tones and communicated primarily by subtle eye-brow movements. Prescription for antibiotics in hand, we repaired, as a family, to the fancy-people's grocery to get some drugs at the pharmacy and donuts at the bakery.
Child #2 seems in better spirits already, just in time for the much ballyhooed snowstorm of the season which is supposed to begin later today. After attending to my personal grooming this morning, I flipped on the teevee to watch the weather while I got dressed. The local news boys and girls were nearly wetting themselves with anticipation of the (potential) 5-7 inches of white snow which will (maybe) fall on the metropolitan area (or somewhere else) over the next 36 hours. The sparkle of weather-related insanity gleaming in their glassy teevee eyes, they prattled on and on about the coming snowstorm as if it was the long-awaited messiah of frozen precipitation set to come to earth.
I don't remember this kind of frenetic weather mania from my childhood in Cincinnati. We had a couple of good snows, the occasional tornado and a lot of thunderstorms, but not the single-minded obsession with the weather that occupies a large portion of the real estate in the heart of any true Minnesotan. For example, the pre-first-snow paroxysm is not unique. There is also the annual "first thunderstorm rumpus," and the "first 80 degree day madness." The local newsies are an excitable bunch.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I like winter. I don't even mind the shoveling since it's an activity that, even Wife-a-roo will admit, cannot be pursued with small, stroppy children in tow. The only things I don't like are scraping snow off the roof, and the media frenzy that precedes each potential life-threatening snow fall. For God's sake, people. It's Minnesota. It's not like winter should come as a surprise.
Child #2 has an ear infection. We were supposed to get round 2 flu shots for both children yesterday but the on-again-off-again fever of Child #2 spiked once more yesterday morning so we took her in to see the doctor. The regular baby-doctor is off on Mondays so we saw a tall, laconic family practice doctor of Scandinavian descent, named "Olav Olson" or "Hjalmar Carlson" or "Lindstrom P. Nordic" or "Sven McSwedish" or something. He seemed delighted that we spoke in low, measured tones and communicated primarily by subtle eye-brow movements. Prescription for antibiotics in hand, we repaired, as a family, to the fancy-people's grocery to get some drugs at the pharmacy and donuts at the bakery.
Child #2 seems in better spirits already, just in time for the much ballyhooed snowstorm of the season which is supposed to begin later today. After attending to my personal grooming this morning, I flipped on the teevee to watch the weather while I got dressed. The local news boys and girls were nearly wetting themselves with anticipation of the (potential) 5-7 inches of white snow which will (maybe) fall on the metropolitan area (or somewhere else) over the next 36 hours. The sparkle of weather-related insanity gleaming in their glassy teevee eyes, they prattled on and on about the coming snowstorm as if it was the long-awaited messiah of frozen precipitation set to come to earth.
I don't remember this kind of frenetic weather mania from my childhood in Cincinnati. We had a couple of good snows, the occasional tornado and a lot of thunderstorms, but not the single-minded obsession with the weather that occupies a large portion of the real estate in the heart of any true Minnesotan. For example, the pre-first-snow paroxysm is not unique. There is also the annual "first thunderstorm rumpus," and the "first 80 degree day madness." The local newsies are an excitable bunch.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I like winter. I don't even mind the shoveling since it's an activity that, even Wife-a-roo will admit, cannot be pursued with small, stroppy children in tow. The only things I don't like are scraping snow off the roof, and the media frenzy that precedes each potential life-threatening snow fall. For God's sake, people. It's Minnesota. It's not like winter should come as a surprise.
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