I thought I might title this one, Last Words Of The Year, but as many of my readers know, I'm a little sporadic in how often I decide to post.
Today will be a more serious topic than many of my posts, maybe a little philosophical.
Winter has officially arrived. While other areas have been hit a lot harder, we still received the snow, the icy roads, the blowing wind, and the cold temps. The landscape looks more or less dead.
The seasons and our calendar look a lot like life from the right perspective. They begin, they progress, they end...only to start over again. The new year and the new cycle of life don't really coincide with each other, and yet they do in a certain sense.
Spring to us almost represents the new life being created or birthed, with all the plants coming alive, animals coming out of hibernation, people venturing out with greater frequency as a whole. Eventually spring merges into summer. Almost like adolescence and the early adult life. We go out, we explore our world, often in the form of vacations, we have fun. Soon things cool off as autumn sets in. We go back to school and work, and prepare for later when the holidays come around. Autumn fully engulfs us, almost like midlife where we begin to assess how our year (or life) has gone thus far. The holiday season begins in autumn, and we begin to re-connect with our families. Sure, commercialism and shopping and sales are always there, but we stress the important things in life: our families and friends, that which really matters in our lives. Autumn turns to winter, the holidays still in full swing, we continue to cling to the activities that keep us connected to our loved ones. Winter is almost like our senior years, the twilight of our lives. We again take a look at how our lives/years have gone overall.
The winter doesn't end with the calendar year, but continues on. The new year arrives, often including our new plans, or resolutions of what we will do with our new year, and hopefully our new life. We plant the seeds of our ideas into our brains, but with anything, the fruition doesn't immediately show itself, in the dead of winter. It must take time to germinate, along with careful tending, for us to bring everything back to its new life. Then after a few months into the new year, Spring comes along again. We have our second chance at life. We begin the spring cleaning, ridding ourselves of the older and unwanted portions from our old life, to make room for the new things we intend to add and improve our lives. Almost instinctively we crave and try to usher in change to our lives, in order to feel more alive.
Now in real life it doesn't always manifest itself that way. We don't always change but maintain our routines. We don't put forth the new ideas, but merely try to survive in the way we always have. Life passes us by as we just exist. Events, activities and people come and go, but we remain steadfast in our mere stagnant existence. We cling to our ideas of how things should be, occasionally dreaming of what could be, but rarely acting on it. Other times we will stretch ourselves to do things, to say that we are moving forward, even if there is little evidence that it will actually change anything, just for the sake of doing 'something'.
Eventually as we move through our lives, the end of the year/seasons/life comes along. Almost automatically we assess it all again. Did we do this, did we do that, why did we or did we not do the other? For some the answers come easily, knowing they lived a full year or a full life, without regrets of any sort. For others, the questions often beget more questions, along with regrets, wondering where the time went. What could I have done/said differently to have created a better outcome for myself? Things of that nature.
For those who merely existed and survived life, without risk of losing it reminds me of a bible passage. Now some take the bible at its literal word, others as a metaphorical collection on how to live life. To a degree both are right. The passage "Any man who tries to save his life shall surely lose it." Now many Christians will tell you that you must give yourself to the Lord to receive your blessings in Heaven. And yet, it has real world implications at the same time. Those who risk nothing, those who just survive, they will have those questions. they will have realized that they lost the luster of what life and the world has to offer them. It could be a lifestyle, happiness in their jobs, people in their lives, any number of things.
As winter has arrived I find myself wondering what the hell I did with my year. What could I have done differently? Have my relationships with other people grown stronger, weaker. or remained as merely existing relationships over the time? Am I any different now than I was before? Is my family stronger and more loving than a year ago? Or less so? Have I lived a life worth being proud of over this last year, or one that has kept me from true happiness? Will the new year bring better plans, better actions, better words, and ultimately a better life?
Being a guy, we are often stereotyped as having to maintain a macho image. To actually discuss serious topics out loud with someone may leave us challenging our masculinity, and with some guys, our sexual orientation is called into question, usually with a phrase from one of our guy friends that sounds a little like "Dude, why are you acting so gay?"
They say communication is key to building and maintaining relationships. However such statements as the one ending the last paragraph can easily stop us dead in our tracks, and make us shy away from such talk. It's a whole lot easier to sit on our couch in silence staring at the ball game with one hand in a bag of chips the other one clutching either the TV remote or our crotches. We find it hard to expose ourselves, emotionally speaking, for some odd fear of being rejected, or dismissed out of hand by those around us (which sometimes does happen). And yet, if the very people we care about drift away from us, we sit there wondering what happened to our friends or loved ones that we do not see as much of as we did previously. We have had falsehoods built into our lives, and over time we believe them as much as age-old wisdom. We often spread those very same lies to those around us, leading them down the same paths. We lie, and lie, until a big part of our life may be that of a false self. Of course, being human, if we're called on it, we go into psychological self defense, deflecting blame and finding fault with our accusers. Anything to save losing face in our own mind, as well as in the eyes of others, because being wrong is not an option. We will make decisions in life to protect ourselves...and stick by those decisions in the face of everything, good or bad.
And then the next spring and new life comes. The question then is are we still living our old life as we always have? Or maybe we are embarking upon a new one entirely? Or maybe we will take the good part of the old life and add new adaptations to bring those around us along in your new life? Do we clutch onto the ways we've been wronged, while wanting our wrongs to be forgiven? Or will we start anew, forgiving those trespasses against us, while hoping the same courtesy is extended to us? Do we work out our issues with others with whom we may have problems, or keep to ourselves not caring about the people or the circumstances?
Is the new life going to be another set of lies where we insist we're fine no matter what, or will truth be shown the light of day and we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and loved/loving?
Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label winter. Show all posts
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Lebkuchen and Sledding
Okay, so more Christmas weekend stuff to get through. The last post was chock full of pictures. This one will have less of those, and should be shorter overall.
First off, Christmastime means one very special package that comes every year without fail. My aunt Denise knows how much I love the Lebkuchen treats, so I always get a couple bags of that, along with a couple packages of the other ginger treat, Contessa. Very tasty stuff. It comes specifically for me and my mom. It turns out, my family kind of likes it too. I leave the package on the counter with a certain amount in the bag. I come back by it even 5 minutes later, and half of it has disappeared. My family is ninjaing (ninjaing is NOW an official word in my vocabulary. You all might as well capitulate and add it to your linguistic repertoire.) my friggin lebkuchen. I have mixed feelings about this. I should be happy that they like some of these very same treats I grew up enjoying, and cannot be bought out here in Iowa, as far as I am aware. And yet, I'm mildly upset, as my selfish side says the lebkuchen is "MINE! ALL MINE, DAMMIT! KEEP YOUR GRIMY HANDS OFF OF IT!"
I'm sure at some point I'll receive a talking to about how being selfish is bad, and not of good character. I need to set a good example when it comes to sharing, blah blah blah. You can rest assured though, that your superhero will use his magical power of selective hearing and tune it all out. I'm so good at that, that I may have received this talk multiple times and still remain totally unaware. Good for me.
Well, this year's Christmas turned out to be a pretty big hit all around. My Dad got a slingshot screaming monkey. He collects monkey stuff. If mom didn't secretly purge pieces of the collection I'm sure he'd have at least 100 monkeys sitting around his house somewhere or another. I don't think any part of the house is out of eyesight from one monkey or another. A creepy proposition now that I think of it. I may have been enjoying my morning constitutional under the ever watchful eyes of a monkey hidden amongst the plants, for all I know. Mom got her bath products as usual. Christmas is when she stocks up on this stuff for each year. My wife got her juicer, and some spice grinder/shredder thing. (I dunno its name, I was just assured certain death if I use it to shred cheese) My sister, well she got a bookmark. It turns out she needs more, since she mysteriously chews all of hers up without realizing it. I think her and The Colonel need to get together to have a fiber binging vacation or something. Sophie got all kinds of stuff, clothing, a few toys, you know, baby stuff. Vic, got his candy, SourPatch Kids. Apparently candy is rather amusing to him. Another present he seemed to take delight in was whenever I left my new slippers, courtesy of my in-laws, laying around. If I didn't have them on my feet, Vic was wearing them. So now I have to find a similar pair, so he has his own for those cold days. He's from down south, so he has sensitive feet don'tcha know!
The boys received all kinds of toys. But Santa, also brought them two brand new red sleds for Christmas. So the day after Christmas, when the weather cleared up enough to go out safely, Vic and I drove them down the road to the local golf course where I used to sled while growing up. There was a LOT of snow, and only a few people had been sledding prior to our arrival. So slick paths they were not. Most trips ended up with sled and rider being separated by at least a few feet. These sleds, being plastic and small were enough to hold a single kid, and barely a single adult, however a kid and adult rider at the same time caused mass burial of the sled maybe halfway down the hill.
Buggy trudging up a hill. Independent as he is, he has decided that he needs his own hill to sled on, not the one his brother or any of the other kids are using. Eventually other kids followed to use his hill. If Buggy has my ego, he'll only see himself as a trendsetter, and his later years living at home will be a battle of egos between father and son. I only hope I can still win then.
It's hard to see it when its all white and snowy out, but behind us, there is a huge drop off from our hill....most of the ground you're seeing is actually on the other side of the valley.
I made it partway down a small hill before the sled finally bucked me off and tossed me into a drifted side of the hill. I am thoroughly buried, and was comfortable with just dying right there. It turns out trudging up snow covered hillsides in full outdoor gear is well beyond my cardio capacity currently. I believe 8 cardiac arrests were recorded on myself alone.
Here's Josh just prior to going down yet another hill. The boys were thoroughly enjoying themselves this day.
And here is Vic and I getting all bundled up for the sledding excursion. I hadn't been sledding since probably 1990 or 91. This was Vic's first time ever. We were a mix-n-match collection of outdoor gear, almost none of it our own. But we stayed warm the whole time, despite blazing trails through nearly waist deep snow at times. Buggy had to stay in our tracks lest he get lost underneath the white billowy blanket in certain spots.
And of course I'd be remiss, if I didn't post a picture of my dad's dedication to the art of grilling. It's either that or his disdain for making dirty dishes unnecessarily by using pots and pans on a stove. So, here he is (also known as the Evil Duane), grilling outside while the snow falls around him.
First off, Christmastime means one very special package that comes every year without fail. My aunt Denise knows how much I love the Lebkuchen treats, so I always get a couple bags of that, along with a couple packages of the other ginger treat, Contessa. Very tasty stuff. It comes specifically for me and my mom. It turns out, my family kind of likes it too. I leave the package on the counter with a certain amount in the bag. I come back by it even 5 minutes later, and half of it has disappeared. My family is ninjaing (ninjaing is NOW an official word in my vocabulary. You all might as well capitulate and add it to your linguistic repertoire.) my friggin lebkuchen. I have mixed feelings about this. I should be happy that they like some of these very same treats I grew up enjoying, and cannot be bought out here in Iowa, as far as I am aware. And yet, I'm mildly upset, as my selfish side says the lebkuchen is "MINE! ALL MINE, DAMMIT! KEEP YOUR GRIMY HANDS OFF OF IT!"
I'm sure at some point I'll receive a talking to about how being selfish is bad, and not of good character. I need to set a good example when it comes to sharing, blah blah blah. You can rest assured though, that your superhero will use his magical power of selective hearing and tune it all out. I'm so good at that, that I may have received this talk multiple times and still remain totally unaware. Good for me.
Well, this year's Christmas turned out to be a pretty big hit all around. My Dad got a slingshot screaming monkey. He collects monkey stuff. If mom didn't secretly purge pieces of the collection I'm sure he'd have at least 100 monkeys sitting around his house somewhere or another. I don't think any part of the house is out of eyesight from one monkey or another. A creepy proposition now that I think of it. I may have been enjoying my morning constitutional under the ever watchful eyes of a monkey hidden amongst the plants, for all I know. Mom got her bath products as usual. Christmas is when she stocks up on this stuff for each year. My wife got her juicer, and some spice grinder/shredder thing. (I dunno its name, I was just assured certain death if I use it to shred cheese) My sister, well she got a bookmark. It turns out she needs more, since she mysteriously chews all of hers up without realizing it. I think her and The Colonel need to get together to have a fiber binging vacation or something. Sophie got all kinds of stuff, clothing, a few toys, you know, baby stuff. Vic, got his candy, SourPatch Kids. Apparently candy is rather amusing to him. Another present he seemed to take delight in was whenever I left my new slippers, courtesy of my in-laws, laying around. If I didn't have them on my feet, Vic was wearing them. So now I have to find a similar pair, so he has his own for those cold days. He's from down south, so he has sensitive feet don'tcha know!
The boys received all kinds of toys. But Santa, also brought them two brand new red sleds for Christmas. So the day after Christmas, when the weather cleared up enough to go out safely, Vic and I drove them down the road to the local golf course where I used to sled while growing up. There was a LOT of snow, and only a few people had been sledding prior to our arrival. So slick paths they were not. Most trips ended up with sled and rider being separated by at least a few feet. These sleds, being plastic and small were enough to hold a single kid, and barely a single adult, however a kid and adult rider at the same time caused mass burial of the sled maybe halfway down the hill.
Buggy trudging up a hill. Independent as he is, he has decided that he needs his own hill to sled on, not the one his brother or any of the other kids are using. Eventually other kids followed to use his hill. If Buggy has my ego, he'll only see himself as a trendsetter, and his later years living at home will be a battle of egos between father and son. I only hope I can still win then.
It's hard to see it when its all white and snowy out, but behind us, there is a huge drop off from our hill....most of the ground you're seeing is actually on the other side of the valley.
I made it partway down a small hill before the sled finally bucked me off and tossed me into a drifted side of the hill. I am thoroughly buried, and was comfortable with just dying right there. It turns out trudging up snow covered hillsides in full outdoor gear is well beyond my cardio capacity currently. I believe 8 cardiac arrests were recorded on myself alone.
Here's Josh just prior to going down yet another hill. The boys were thoroughly enjoying themselves this day.
And here is Vic and I getting all bundled up for the sledding excursion. I hadn't been sledding since probably 1990 or 91. This was Vic's first time ever. We were a mix-n-match collection of outdoor gear, almost none of it our own. But we stayed warm the whole time, despite blazing trails through nearly waist deep snow at times. Buggy had to stay in our tracks lest he get lost underneath the white billowy blanket in certain spots.And of course I'd be remiss, if I didn't post a picture of my dad's dedication to the art of grilling. It's either that or his disdain for making dirty dishes unnecessarily by using pots and pans on a stove. So, here he is (also known as the Evil Duane), grilling outside while the snow falls around him.
Christmas...12 Feet Under The Snow!
So, I was itching to get back to write about all the new stuff that has happened this Christmas holiday. Now that I'm here and in front of the computer, I'm a lot more overwhelmed than thrilled about documenting s short snippet into the life that lends itself to the Mind of Mookie.
But first off, a little housekeeping is in order. To all you idealist people who kept wishing and praying for a white Christmas....let me be the first to say thank you very much. In two weeks, I've seen around 30 or so inches of snow. In two weeks, we have met our yearly snowfall average. Winter technically started a week ago. As a man who is NOT a fan of precipitation in any form, you can take your wishes of a snow filled christmas and stick it in some places best not actually said in this public forum. Christmas morning found my car lost...and only by the graciousness of my dad to plow the snow out of the driveway was my car even visible to be dug out. So thank you.
So anyways... On Christmas Eve I get off work at 8am, and we travel the two and a hlaf hours to my parents for Christmas and the ensuing weekend, which lasted longer than anticipated, but we'll get back to that later. Roads weren't too bad, mostly wet, but got a bit icy as we got closer to our destination. Had we left much later, our trip may have been more aptly described by the hit song "An Icey Dicey Christmas" as sung by Burl Ives.
As some of you have already read, I recently acquired a niece after a kindly stork dropped by my sister and her husband's place in Florida. So this was going to be our first time seeing her in person. About 35 minutes into the trip my wife realizes she left the camera at home. Well, given the storm predictions, we'll just have to hope my sister remembered hers and can send us photos. My sister came through not only with a camera, but a laptop to upload the photos to an online storage site, Snapfish (Let me be clear...this is not a paid endorsement. None of these damn companies I ever mention think to offer me money to brag about them on this most popular of blog pages), so they would be ready to be organized once we made it home, and for me to be able to post them here today for you to enjoy.
Well, anyways, we got to see our niece, Sophia. I made her smile, mostly because I'm on the same level as new babies when it comes to maturity. Also, I like to burp and poop alot, so we have lifestyles in common.
So here are a few pictures of my new niece. With her mother in her new Christmas dress. Then again with my wife.
And here is Sophie, slightly intrigued, but still not sure about this Christmas present business.
And of course, helping Daddy play some cards. And trust me when I tell you, he needed all the help he could get. He may be part Rocket Scientist, but when it comes to games of chance, the playing field is leveled out a bit for the reast of us lowly peasants. And there she is laying on a blanket with me looking down on her. Don't mistake my smile for pure joy. I'm still curious about this little one. Hard to tell if I really like her or not. She cries a lot, which disinterests me. Now, I know what you're thinking: Shame on you Mike, she's just a baby. and then there will be my wife telling me to drop the macho uncaring act, and that she'll have me wrapped around her little finger. Whatever, I say. We were busy amusing each other with making raspberry noises at each other. What can I say? I'm easily entertained. We'll see how she is when she gets older. If she ends up anything like her mother was, it wont be good. Any car rides while visiting will be accompanied by a lot fo bickering in the backseat and my brother-in-law incredulous at having to chastise both a child and an adult with the idea of turning the car right back around and going home. And of course, the jeers of "she touched me first!!!" whining out of my mouth. Should be interesting to say the least.
Anyways, it was the 24th of December, which of course means it is Buggy's 6th birthday. Another first and only milestone in his life. He'll never turn 6 again. His "Uncle Jim" usually puts himself in charge of making birthday cakes for the boys. He definitely outdid himself this year with a multi-layered cake, plus a couple cookies, a lot of icing, and a motion sensor dinosaur built into the birthday cake.
So we had a birthday celebration, prior to a bunch of people coming over for the traditional Christmas Eve get together my parents have. Weather, being all snowy and blowy, kept a few people away this evening, but still a good sized crowd for such a small little house.
The next morning, after we all finally woke up. Becky and Vic, obviously awoken by their baby, and quite possibly by my two boys who shared the bedroom with them. I, on the otherhand, not being the center of attention at the ripe old age of 30, no longer get up 3 hours before dawn to raid the stocking and start figuring out which presents are mine. I'll get up when either my bladder or everyone else decides I need to get up. But I have to admit, the tree looked pretty good and sparkly. It was a shorter tree than usual, but rather full and balanced, which always makes for a prettier Christmas tree. Add the presents and the shiny bows that add to the glow off the light-adorned tree, and there is still that little flicker of magic that Christmas always holds over the imagination.
Everybody scored some pretty good loot, but the best present I got was actually the present I gave to my sister. You see, in all my years, I have been able to pretty much pick up a package and guess the contents underneath the wrapper, with almost 100% accuracy. It's a gift that can't be taught. Well, two years my sister has managed to mess up my formula and my guesses were wrong. That was years ago. But this year, after all had been forgotten by most, it was my turn to get her.
I enlisted my mom's help in wrapping up multiple boxes inside each other...add some tissue paper here, packing peanuts there...it was quite the job. In one of the random boxes, I had taped her gift card to the inside front, in a position where she wouldn't notice it. She went on to the next box, pulled another out of the bag, opened it up and found a smaller box. And neatly folded inside this little Jewelry box, underneath the protective batting layers was a note telling her that she had still had some looking to do, and that somewhere in the mess she had made was her actual gift. It took awhile, adn I finally had to point out the box to her. The look on her face (my mom prophecied the night before while we worked on this project that Becky would cuss me out for this, which she did) was more than satisfying. Her frustration and the "I'm gonna kill you!" look made my Christmas.
But first off, a little housekeeping is in order. To all you idealist people who kept wishing and praying for a white Christmas....let me be the first to say thank you very much. In two weeks, I've seen around 30 or so inches of snow. In two weeks, we have met our yearly snowfall average. Winter technically started a week ago. As a man who is NOT a fan of precipitation in any form, you can take your wishes of a snow filled christmas and stick it in some places best not actually said in this public forum. Christmas morning found my car lost...and only by the graciousness of my dad to plow the snow out of the driveway was my car even visible to be dug out. So thank you.
So anyways... On Christmas Eve I get off work at 8am, and we travel the two and a hlaf hours to my parents for Christmas and the ensuing weekend, which lasted longer than anticipated, but we'll get back to that later. Roads weren't too bad, mostly wet, but got a bit icy as we got closer to our destination. Had we left much later, our trip may have been more aptly described by the hit song "An Icey Dicey Christmas" as sung by Burl Ives.
As some of you have already read, I recently acquired a niece after a kindly stork dropped by my sister and her husband's place in Florida. So this was going to be our first time seeing her in person. About 35 minutes into the trip my wife realizes she left the camera at home. Well, given the storm predictions, we'll just have to hope my sister remembered hers and can send us photos. My sister came through not only with a camera, but a laptop to upload the photos to an online storage site, Snapfish (Let me be clear...this is not a paid endorsement. None of these damn companies I ever mention think to offer me money to brag about them on this most popular of blog pages), so they would be ready to be organized once we made it home, and for me to be able to post them here today for you to enjoy.
Well, anyways, we got to see our niece, Sophia. I made her smile, mostly because I'm on the same level as new babies when it comes to maturity. Also, I like to burp and poop alot, so we have lifestyles in common.
So here are a few pictures of my new niece. With her mother in her new Christmas dress. Then again with my wife.
And here is Sophie, slightly intrigued, but still not sure about this Christmas present business.
And of course, helping Daddy play some cards. And trust me when I tell you, he needed all the help he could get. He may be part Rocket Scientist, but when it comes to games of chance, the playing field is leveled out a bit for the reast of us lowly peasants. And there she is laying on a blanket with me looking down on her. Don't mistake my smile for pure joy. I'm still curious about this little one. Hard to tell if I really like her or not. She cries a lot, which disinterests me. Now, I know what you're thinking: Shame on you Mike, she's just a baby. and then there will be my wife telling me to drop the macho uncaring act, and that she'll have me wrapped around her little finger. Whatever, I say. We were busy amusing each other with making raspberry noises at each other. What can I say? I'm easily entertained. We'll see how she is when she gets older. If she ends up anything like her mother was, it wont be good. Any car rides while visiting will be accompanied by a lot fo bickering in the backseat and my brother-in-law incredulous at having to chastise both a child and an adult with the idea of turning the car right back around and going home. And of course, the jeers of "she touched me first!!!" whining out of my mouth. Should be interesting to say the least.
Anyways, it was the 24th of December, which of course means it is Buggy's 6th birthday. Another first and only milestone in his life. He'll never turn 6 again. His "Uncle Jim" usually puts himself in charge of making birthday cakes for the boys. He definitely outdid himself this year with a multi-layered cake, plus a couple cookies, a lot of icing, and a motion sensor dinosaur built into the birthday cake.
So we had a birthday celebration, prior to a bunch of people coming over for the traditional Christmas Eve get together my parents have. Weather, being all snowy and blowy, kept a few people away this evening, but still a good sized crowd for such a small little house.
The next morning, after we all finally woke up. Becky and Vic, obviously awoken by their baby, and quite possibly by my two boys who shared the bedroom with them. I, on the otherhand, not being the center of attention at the ripe old age of 30, no longer get up 3 hours before dawn to raid the stocking and start figuring out which presents are mine. I'll get up when either my bladder or everyone else decides I need to get up. But I have to admit, the tree looked pretty good and sparkly. It was a shorter tree than usual, but rather full and balanced, which always makes for a prettier Christmas tree. Add the presents and the shiny bows that add to the glow off the light-adorned tree, and there is still that little flicker of magic that Christmas always holds over the imagination.
Everybody scored some pretty good loot, but the best present I got was actually the present I gave to my sister. You see, in all my years, I have been able to pretty much pick up a package and guess the contents underneath the wrapper, with almost 100% accuracy. It's a gift that can't be taught. Well, two years my sister has managed to mess up my formula and my guesses were wrong. That was years ago. But this year, after all had been forgotten by most, it was my turn to get her.
I enlisted my mom's help in wrapping up multiple boxes inside each other...add some tissue paper here, packing peanuts there...it was quite the job. In one of the random boxes, I had taped her gift card to the inside front, in a position where she wouldn't notice it. She went on to the next box, pulled another out of the bag, opened it up and found a smaller box. And neatly folded inside this little Jewelry box, underneath the protective batting layers was a note telling her that she had still had some looking to do, and that somewhere in the mess she had made was her actual gift. It took awhile, adn I finally had to point out the box to her. The look on her face (my mom prophecied the night before while we worked on this project that Becky would cuss me out for this, which she did) was more than satisfying. Her frustration and the "I'm gonna kill you!" look made my Christmas.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Quantum Theory Has The Cubs Winning the World Series
Now, maybe I don't have a firm grasp on everything there is to know in this universe of ours. I know what you're thinking. Mookie DOESN'T know everything? Yes, hard t believe but true. And part of that reason is any subject that began with the word "quantum" generally sent me into my own little world to ignore a subject that more theory than possibly conflicting facts.
I now believe in Quantum something or another Theory. I have decided, after working last night, that somewhere in an alternate universe, the Chicago Cubs did in fact win the Wolrd Series. How do I know this. Because Hell Has Frozen Over in Iowa!
Not only did we get more snow in one storm system than we have had since 1996, (we had 16 inches dumped on us), but the temperatures dropped into single digits with windchills WAY below zero. The wind was gusting between 45 and 60 miles per hour, creating white out conditions. And not just regular white out like you use on paper, and can see the mistake...this was Super White Out. It erased the front end of my patrol car from visibility altogether. Recently plowed roads were re-covered by a big blanket of white blown back ontot he roadway by the highg winds...most multilane roads had one driveable path, and if it was a two way road....well let's just say that thanks to a big tractor looking snowplow who refused to hold up until I could get around a big drift that erased part of the road, I became stuck...100 feet from the building my work is located in, and 400 feet from the building that I was responding to an alarm at. Naturally noone was available to help a rentacop out. so, I ran (and by run I mean in slowmo as I bounded through drift after drift like some sort of sled dog with only 2 legs) to the shop grabbed a shovel and proceeded to scoop my patrol car free. In the process I could barely see the car I was scooping free, and simultaneously trying to remain in position to do the job as th wind tried to blow my butt across the road. My already cold legs that had been exposed to lots of snow from earlier events, were now being windburned THROUGH my pants. Already exposed to moisture and frozen half solid, this was not good. I'm pretty sure I died from exposure...twice.
To back up a bit....I got up in plenty of time to go to work, but i spent ten minutes getting unstuck from my parking spot here at home. I make it to the shop..well the south entrance to the parking lot, and spend 20 minutes digging my way out of that with an ice scraper of all things. I go to the north entry, get stuck there, and it was an hour after I originally got on scene before my car was rescued and allowed to be parked in the lot behind our work garage. I braved the treacherous roads, and was forced to do more drive-by checks than actual lot patrols at many of my accounts as there was NO way to access the property without getting stuck again, and I'll be damned if they pay me enough to bound through nut-high snow drifts in single digit temperatures just to walk around a building while I risk my patrol car getting bashed up or buried by the DOT snow plows going up and down the mai roads in fruitless efforts to keep them open even a little bit.
I made a few extra efforts to make a more complete job at properties, btu most of it was simply driving the roads around them and making sure there was nothing visibly wrong with the places. Then at about 4am, I get a call to go to a residential house buried deep in the heart of residential development and about 6 or 7 blocks from any main road. I made it down the side street that intersected the street I was looking for. Then I humped it the 75 yards through snow and high winds blasting my face just to walk around a house that has been drifted shut, and showed no signs of entry. the alarm were interior motion alarms, no perimeters. I leave, I manage to get back to the main road and on my way....20 minutes later, I get teh call for the same place, same alarm. The homeowner is in Denver, and insists we re-check the place. All I have to say is the only way someone was going to burgle that house was to come up from underground and drill through the slab underneath. So back I go down the side road that hasn't seen a plow in probably 8 hours or more, hike through the snow to their house where I could hike through more snow and find out that there still was nothing wrong with their place. I told the alarm dispatch compnay representative that the resident owes me a christmas present for that kind of service...with a tow ban in effect, had I gotten stuck down in that neighborhood, well, lets just say it would be tomorrow or the next day before they would be allowed to come rescue me.
After that all was well...for awhile. I ate breakfast INSIDE the Mcdonald's where they had a cleared out parking lot. I needed to warm up and relax for a bit. Then I got called for 2 different alarms.....on the way to the second one was when I got stuck, as described above, by the shop. Then, my relief got his personal car stuck outside his driveway. I had to go pick him up. I got the patrol car stuck around the corner and a half block down from his place....more shoveling. I will be the first guy who dies of a hernia and a heart attack at the age of 30, along with hypothermia and some frostbite. This is honestly what I was thinking during this shoveling incident. But, we got out, got him to work. I shoveled my personal car out of its spot behind the shop so I could come home. I get on the road out to the main artery, where I got stuck again in the plow slushed mess. I used my cold wet booted feet as the shovel to kick everything out of the way, so my little car could actually get moving. Didn't matter at that point, I was ready to amputate with or without anesthesia anytime. My feet felt like blocks of ice, or frozen clubfoot.
The low fuel light was on. So I had to baby the car to the nearest accessible gas station. As I pull in, I see two guys stalking me. One with a camera, the other with a microphone. Having been, what I can assume was fully rested over the night while I worked, they came up and asked to interview me about my night and the weather.
You see, I really am that important. The local metro news needs MY opinion. However, I do have a face built for radio, and a voice for silent movies. I suspect any mention of me might be my name, and a recapping of my comments by the reporter with his pretty little made-for-tv face.
But now, it is time to warm my innards with coffee, and my feet somehow. In the army, they always taught us to put our cold hands either in our armpits or crotch to avoid frostbite and exposure issues, since those two areas are teh warmest on our bodies. I contemplated this with my feet, then realized I'm not that flexible to begin with, and there is no way that could be comfortable even if I did manage to cram my feet into my armpits or crotch like some advanced yoga pose.
I expect better working conditions tonight, or I just may quit. Should've listened to my wife and just stayed home from work last night. I blame my dad for instilling such a sense of responsibility in me...damn him anyways!
I now believe in Quantum something or another Theory. I have decided, after working last night, that somewhere in an alternate universe, the Chicago Cubs did in fact win the Wolrd Series. How do I know this. Because Hell Has Frozen Over in Iowa!
Not only did we get more snow in one storm system than we have had since 1996, (we had 16 inches dumped on us), but the temperatures dropped into single digits with windchills WAY below zero. The wind was gusting between 45 and 60 miles per hour, creating white out conditions. And not just regular white out like you use on paper, and can see the mistake...this was Super White Out. It erased the front end of my patrol car from visibility altogether. Recently plowed roads were re-covered by a big blanket of white blown back ontot he roadway by the highg winds...most multilane roads had one driveable path, and if it was a two way road....well let's just say that thanks to a big tractor looking snowplow who refused to hold up until I could get around a big drift that erased part of the road, I became stuck...100 feet from the building my work is located in, and 400 feet from the building that I was responding to an alarm at. Naturally noone was available to help a rentacop out. so, I ran (and by run I mean in slowmo as I bounded through drift after drift like some sort of sled dog with only 2 legs) to the shop grabbed a shovel and proceeded to scoop my patrol car free. In the process I could barely see the car I was scooping free, and simultaneously trying to remain in position to do the job as th wind tried to blow my butt across the road. My already cold legs that had been exposed to lots of snow from earlier events, were now being windburned THROUGH my pants. Already exposed to moisture and frozen half solid, this was not good. I'm pretty sure I died from exposure...twice.
To back up a bit....I got up in plenty of time to go to work, but i spent ten minutes getting unstuck from my parking spot here at home. I make it to the shop..well the south entrance to the parking lot, and spend 20 minutes digging my way out of that with an ice scraper of all things. I go to the north entry, get stuck there, and it was an hour after I originally got on scene before my car was rescued and allowed to be parked in the lot behind our work garage. I braved the treacherous roads, and was forced to do more drive-by checks than actual lot patrols at many of my accounts as there was NO way to access the property without getting stuck again, and I'll be damned if they pay me enough to bound through nut-high snow drifts in single digit temperatures just to walk around a building while I risk my patrol car getting bashed up or buried by the DOT snow plows going up and down the mai roads in fruitless efforts to keep them open even a little bit.
I made a few extra efforts to make a more complete job at properties, btu most of it was simply driving the roads around them and making sure there was nothing visibly wrong with the places. Then at about 4am, I get a call to go to a residential house buried deep in the heart of residential development and about 6 or 7 blocks from any main road. I made it down the side street that intersected the street I was looking for. Then I humped it the 75 yards through snow and high winds blasting my face just to walk around a house that has been drifted shut, and showed no signs of entry. the alarm were interior motion alarms, no perimeters. I leave, I manage to get back to the main road and on my way....20 minutes later, I get teh call for the same place, same alarm. The homeowner is in Denver, and insists we re-check the place. All I have to say is the only way someone was going to burgle that house was to come up from underground and drill through the slab underneath. So back I go down the side road that hasn't seen a plow in probably 8 hours or more, hike through the snow to their house where I could hike through more snow and find out that there still was nothing wrong with their place. I told the alarm dispatch compnay representative that the resident owes me a christmas present for that kind of service...with a tow ban in effect, had I gotten stuck down in that neighborhood, well, lets just say it would be tomorrow or the next day before they would be allowed to come rescue me.
After that all was well...for awhile. I ate breakfast INSIDE the Mcdonald's where they had a cleared out parking lot. I needed to warm up and relax for a bit. Then I got called for 2 different alarms.....on the way to the second one was when I got stuck, as described above, by the shop. Then, my relief got his personal car stuck outside his driveway. I had to go pick him up. I got the patrol car stuck around the corner and a half block down from his place....more shoveling. I will be the first guy who dies of a hernia and a heart attack at the age of 30, along with hypothermia and some frostbite. This is honestly what I was thinking during this shoveling incident. But, we got out, got him to work. I shoveled my personal car out of its spot behind the shop so I could come home. I get on the road out to the main artery, where I got stuck again in the plow slushed mess. I used my cold wet booted feet as the shovel to kick everything out of the way, so my little car could actually get moving. Didn't matter at that point, I was ready to amputate with or without anesthesia anytime. My feet felt like blocks of ice, or frozen clubfoot.
The low fuel light was on. So I had to baby the car to the nearest accessible gas station. As I pull in, I see two guys stalking me. One with a camera, the other with a microphone. Having been, what I can assume was fully rested over the night while I worked, they came up and asked to interview me about my night and the weather.
You see, I really am that important. The local metro news needs MY opinion. However, I do have a face built for radio, and a voice for silent movies. I suspect any mention of me might be my name, and a recapping of my comments by the reporter with his pretty little made-for-tv face.
But now, it is time to warm my innards with coffee, and my feet somehow. In the army, they always taught us to put our cold hands either in our armpits or crotch to avoid frostbite and exposure issues, since those two areas are teh warmest on our bodies. I contemplated this with my feet, then realized I'm not that flexible to begin with, and there is no way that could be comfortable even if I did manage to cram my feet into my armpits or crotch like some advanced yoga pose.
I expect better working conditions tonight, or I just may quit. Should've listened to my wife and just stayed home from work last night. I blame my dad for instilling such a sense of responsibility in me...damn him anyways!
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