The week-end

It’s uncertain how we’ll spend this week-end because some of us here are feeling not-so-good and are no doubt walking germ factories. Quentin is scheduled to come next Friday and we don’t want to get Der Bingle sick for that so maybe he’ll stay in Dayton. And I would stay on the sofa and Summer would alternate between the other end and her room and we would have Kleenex and blankies handy.

If the under-the-weatherness develops further, I might just put on the weather channel and let Jim Cantore tell me all about the blizzard heading at Boston. They are saying it may top the Great Blizzard of 1978. Makes me feel old and highlights the passage of generations; I’m one of the old-timers now who tells stories of the the GB of ’78. A long time ago, I’d be the one listening to older folks talk about their parents and the storm of 1888 and I heard my own parents tell about the winter of ’36. COLD. Of course, I don’t think watching one on TV is the same as – oh, let’s say, sitting huddled under blankets in the dark by the fireplace, if you’re lucky enough to have one.

Tummies are queasy here as well . . . but let’s not go into detail about that.

If I had my druthers

I’ve just been thinking about how much I wish LZP lived closer to us. Actually, if the truth be known – and come to think of it, I believe I have mentioned it before, but never mind, I’ll just repeat myself . . . Uh, that got long so I’ll start over.

Come to think of it, if the truth be known, I often imagine Der Bingle, LZP and myself making an “Old Kook and Associates” lodge-like home up at my Mother’s place. We even have a Ben Franklin stove up there, but you have to have the woodman cut the pieces shorter than normal fireplace logs so they will fit in. We have a cellar that has a brick floor in part of it. We have land that has only been used for gardening and has been resting for over 30 years ready to go . . . and we’ve got a brand-new metal roof – not that I want a cat for it.

I want LZP to take good care of himself; I love him. I want to count Old Kook in . . . and I wanted him to know it so I wrote this. And I want Der Bingle to take good care of himself, because I would be so very, very lost without him.

Sigh . . . sometimes you just have to come right out and say things. Hope I’m not embarrassing anyone. Oh, wait, we’re talking about Der Bingle and his brother here – you know – the one in the banana suit.

It finally dawned on me

I miss writing. I do. After I thought about the Budweiser Clydesdale Horses earlier, I remembered a couple of the old commercials and, because it is the modern times now, I could watch some on YouTube. And so I did. I watched the one about the World Trade Center and the one about Hank, who trained to make the cut, and the one about the colt trying to pull the wagon . . . so the two big horses secretly pushed. I even opted to view the suggested “From our house to your house” Christmas one from a year I’ve now forgotten.

I started thinking about how short scenes such as these can reach right into your soul, and the closing scene from Hoosiers came into my mind: Gene Hackman’s voice – the little kid in the high school gym. I thought about Hank again.

I choked up; my eyes teared. I think I subconsciously engineered the whole thing because last night I had terrible nightmares going to the heart of my fears and regrets. I think my body needed some tears.

It is a logical explanation, but it reminded me of something else. I can do this emotion-encapsulating thing. Heaven knows the transcribing of interviews is a pain in the neck . . . but I need to the hear voices again, not just read notes jotted down. I need to hear the pauses, the changes in tone, the types of chuckles . . . and the moments when someone’s voice falters.

And then there’s that damn first sentence. The last one can also be tantalizingly close for quite a long time before it finally sounds right. Once I thought, “To Hell with it” and just ended an article. The editor called and said I needed to add one of my trademark ending sentences that “don’t mean anything, but just make people want to think they do.” And I knew what she meant.

Come to think of it, maybe I should have been a writer of country-western lyrics. You can get a lot of money for that. And people repeat the same thing over and over again – you don’t have to come up with something new on deadline over and over again . . . after the interviewing and describing and sitting down to think once more, “Where the Hell do I begin?”

See, actually, that last bit illustrates my point. I used ‘over and over again’ twice real close together without thinking. Why? Because it’s one of those things that is best said ONE way. That’s the way you feel it.

This is not leading me anywhere really. I don’t write good stories or make succinct analytical reports; I have always just pulled some emotion out of something and said, “Here it is.” A lot of time it’s corny because a lot of real things are. And I can pull it off. I don’t know why. Perhaps it is because people have a need to feel some things but want a gentle guide there – one that will put a rope around their waists to haul them back to the “Hey, I’m fine” world.

So what am I going to do? Sit down and write a bunch of corny essays? Well, maybe, yes. Hey, if it makes me feel good, why not? See, at the center of it all, I’m a hedonist.

Home today

A wee bit ago, I tried to link over here to . . . I don’t know . . . maybe ramble about how the Budweiser Clydesdales make me choke up. But the server would not connect. If it was an omen, I don’t see the point of it because there is nothing controversial about the endearing Clydesdales. However, hearing the announcement of NO SCHOOL, I looked out the window and

JUST TO SHARE:

middle of snow

.. WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL 1 PM EST THIS AFTERNOON…

HAZARDOUS WEATHER…

* SNOW WILL INCREASE IN INTENSITY THROUGH DAYBREAK AND CONTINUE THROUGH INTO THIS AFTERNOON.

* TOTAL ACCUMULATIONS OF 3 TO 5 INCHES WITH ISOLATED HIGHER AMOUNTS POSSIBLE ALONG AND JUST NORTH OF THE HIGHWAY 30 CORRIDOR.

* THE SNOW MAY BE HEAVY AT TIMES DURING THE MORNING RUSH HOUR.

IMPACTS…

* UNTREATED ROADS WILL BECOME SNOW COVERED AND SLICK. VISIBILITIES WILL BE GREATLY REDUCED AT TIMES… ESPECIALLY IN HEAVIER SNOW BANDS.

* THE GREATEST SNOWFALL RATES ARE EXPECTED DURING THE MORNING COMMUTE… LEADING TO DIFFICULT TRAVEL.

PRECAUTIONARY/PREPAREDNESS ACTIONS…

A WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY FOR SNOW MEANS THAT PERIODS OF SNOW WILL CAUSE PRIMARILY TRAVEL DIFFICULTIES. BE PREPARED FOR SNOW COVERED ROADS AND LIMITED VISIBILITIES… AND USE CAUTION WHILE DRIVING.

&&
More Information

… ACCUMULATING SNOW THROUGH AFTERNOON…

.A FAST MOVING CLIPPER SYSTEM WILL MOVE OUT OF IOWA AND INTO THE EASTERN OHIO VALLEY BY THIS AFTERNOON. ACCUMULATING SNOWFALL WILL OVERSPREAD THE AREA EARLY THIS MORNING AND CONTINUE INTO THIS AFTERNOON BEFORE ENDING. TOTAL SNOW ACCUMULATIONS NEAR THE LAKE ARE EXPECTED TO BE FROM 5 TO 10 INCHES BY LATE MONDAY EVENING. ELSEWHERE IN THE ADVISORY AREA GENERALLY 2 TO 5 INCHES ARE EXPECTED.

I’m up and the temperature is down

We have wind chill.
temp
Oodles of it. We are surrounded. The conditions are right for experiments with Peeps with Wind Chill – sounds like a good science project. Peeps with little thermometers sticking out of their whatevers . . . Frozen Peeps cracked right in half.

You could probably do a variation of the frozen turkey in hot oil explosion. Yes, if the Fourth of July were in winter, we would not have to buy firecrackers – just toss frozen Peeps into the pot.

Der Bingle likes “aged” Peeps; he has caches of them around -sort of like little Peep Cellars. Oh, yes, I’ll have a Bunny Peep, 2007, please. Maybe I’ll look around and see if I can find any volunteers for the cyro-Peep program.

Yesterday was warmer

I was in LaGrange County yesterday and Shane was running in the north field and I was walking around in my sweatshirt and now it is over 30 degrees colder and we have ice and snow on the roads. And so it is a good thing that when I returned yesterday, I bought some more logs into the garage. Shane, by the way, helped by guiding me from place to place.

I thought I heard him say, “But, AmeliaJake, I have no hands with which to carry wood for you.” I will give him this: he did not lift his leg and water any of the logs. That would have been . . . not the bee’s knees.

Bridges

I saw a reference to burned bridges in a post and then, for some ridiculous AmeliaJake reason, wondered, “Hey, maybe I should burn some bridges in front of me?” Choices of paths in life – forget the forks in the road, think more of every intersection being a five corners thingie – and at the start of each path a bridge. Soooo . . . maybe some of the times when you’re walking across a bridge and you’re thinking, “Why am I doing this? Why? Why?” and the answer is because it is an irresistible impulse to be STUPID, you should run back and set fire to the damn bridge. Or throw a grenade on it.

I don’t know; perhaps this thought comes from seeing old revival handouts with illustrations of the road to Hell being lined with temptations. I think those drawings had bridges in them; maybe not.

Of course, burning is a bit drastic, but I have imagined myself putting barricades up . . . and I know I would be thinking I could take them down.

Why are these thoughts like hitting myself in the head with a rock? I don’t know, but I’m going to stop and see if it feels better.

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