snow

For The Childish, The Young At Heart, And Anyone Who Wants To Be

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I’ve written about Seasonal Affective Disorder(SAD) before and it’s time to mention it again. I call it SAD because that what it is, but when it tried to grab me recently, tools to combat its kidnapping attempt were readily at hand. One tool is childishness, also known as silliness, which is not to be confused with The Ministry of Silly Walks, though if SAD keeps happening, we might need to mount an appropriate Federal response.

SAD likes to come at night and park itself between the ears before you are awake enough, to recognize its infestation and open the toll box. So it was last night, but I was on to it early. My second-floor wall of windows lets me see the world from above and as the snow fell and covered everything, the first thought was how lucky I was to face the parking lot. Other times in the year the direction I faced was irrelevant. But when it snows, I am blessed to see the beauty of the snowfall, the silent throttling of all negativity, the carpeting of the dirty, dingey world with something pure (at night only!), white, and Godlike. (Apologies for calling it God’s dandruff, in an earlier afternoon post.) From high on the…from my window then the world goes quiet, beautiful, serene…you could hear a pin drop on the soft, snowy cushions*

Then the machines come. Big, ornery machines, throwing the snow aside as if angry for the snow’s hubris. The machine march begins with one large, Transformer-like, crab-walking, black exhaust spewing noisy mother-, sorry, big freaking thing. It makes mighty sweeps through the parking lot grid as if it were PacMan high on a Power Pellet. Then, the smaller worker bees, the fine-tuners come out and scurry around the grid, snipping, here, cutting here, and leaving piles of used, white fabric in the main grid for PacMan. As if divinely designed, Pacman takes all the snow off stage left to a pile I can imagine is snow heaven. Or snow purgatory? Probably just a big pile, but you get the drift.**

As if that wasn’t enough entertainment, these little black stick figures began to move about. Most were unrecognizable with coverings of enormous bulbous-ness and fluffiness, but there was a figure in shorts. His appearance was brief. Most walked with high strides, as if practicing for Monty Python. They all walked towards mounds of snow from which lights shown, as if someone had a remote starter for their cars and they had, oh, yes, exactly like that.

Tai Chi*** has a movement called “Stroking The Birds Tail”. Every one of the stick figuers must be a Tai Chi master cause they also used “Moving The Clouds Away”, and finally, “Lotus Flower”. No one did “White Crane Spreads Its Wings”, but my neighbors’ knowledge of ancient Chinese movements was not only impressive, but surprising.

What was I talking about, again? Oh, yeah, being SAD. The malady had not completely been expelled until this thought: I can’t wait to tell “unnamed person” (UPER) about this. She (hint) will love it.” In other words, a fun time was made better by knowing there was someone to share it with, someone who would actually listen. UPER is a “high S with some I” personality so I knew when she heard the story there’d be no roll of the eyes, no wonder about what might be wrong with this person, this me, babbling on about snow. I had faith.

Fun, friendship, and Faith…was that the point of today’s post?

Oh, right SAD. Let’s not waste anymore time on that stupid subject.

*Apologies for really mangling that metaphor. Pin? Snowy cushions?

**I am so proud of that pun. Wait, how many knew it was a pun?

It Was A Dark and Stormy Night

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Yeah, it is. Was. And will be for at least two more days. Happy Feckin’ New Year.

There is no way to describe the feeling of an upstate New York Lake Effect Snow Bomb(NYLESB*). No way. But I have to try, it is the only thing to do to save sanity. I’ve videod NYLESB every mid-night because it is beautiful as the flakes dance and drift and fly over the parking lots and the cars, often sideways in the biting, cold wind. Then, I noticed every night has been the same for…a month, a year, forever? And how gray is gray, anyway? Each day is a pulsating, electric rainbow of gray, light gray, dark gray, medium gray. It’s making my hair gray, driving me to not care a f#$% about punctuation and spelling. Oh, nooooo.

A weather person on a local station did an outdoor report on the amount of snow falling during this latest assault. She was covered head to toe with fabric but her exposed cheeks were bright red. The male news anchor inside the studio said this when the outdoor reporter finished her report: “Thanks for that report, Hannah and remember, stuff like this builds character.” Mic drop.

I lived in upstate NY for my first 30 years and it was never like this. Or was it? Maybe this is just another way age effects and affects us? As a 30-year old, did character building influence my opinion and recording of past snow events? Was there ever a time when new snow meant get outside and play, or at least shovel the driveway? We used to burrow snow forts into the two-tiered snowbanks caused by the snowplows with the wings. Later in life there was a news story about kids getting killed when another passing snowplow buried them. So it goes, as a famous person said more than once.

Yeah, that makes sense: we can build character with any event if we are ignorant enough. Or naïve enough? Inexperienced? Stupid?

In looking at this through the distortion of a half-full glass, it is a great way to get an idea of how Arctic and Antarctic researchers must feel when they purposefully place themselves in either of this Earth’s frigid, frozen poles. Hey, more good news. Thanks to climate change they may not be frozen much longer…all that ice and snow is migrating to Upstate New York.

What’s the big deal? At least we’re alive, right?

As the whining continues, it should be pointed out I am nice and warm inside a swanky apartment building with heat, light, and a fitness center on the first floor. My front wall of windows allows me to turn The Chair to sit and watch the dropping of NYLESB’s snowflakus gigantis, levitating from The Chair only when I really, really want to, or when nature calls for a warmer activity in the throne room. There are some who may not be as lucky. It is a time to ponder the homeless, or the poor who cannot afford heat, or the cat who runs under cars in the parking lot. What happens to them? Can anything be done?

And there it is, dammit, character. Do I get credit for it or does Mother Nature? God? Is my character-building the result of free will, and would it have happened without the warm apartment?

No one gets credit until something gets done. Thinking of good character is not being a good character. When that snow stops, watch out, world, you’re gonna get fixed. (Yes, I was going to type something else.)

But right now, back to bed.

This piece is riddled with red and blue lines, warning the grammar and spelling police are awakening and preparing my arrest. Am I worried? If you don’t hear from me look under the big snowbank to the left of the building.

*This sounds a little “rainbowish”? Anyone offended?

A Big Sigh For Something

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It’s been a while. Winter doldrums? Probably. That’s what I’m telling everyone. It’s been so long since snow and cold affected my mood. (Note: I spent a few minutes looking up if the winter weather “effected” me or “affected” me. Learn something new every day. Freshly fallen snow is a beautiful thing unless it won’t go away and more falls the next day, and states of emergency are called for and no one can go ANYWHERE AND NO ONE CAN DO ANYTHING AND YOU HAVE TO JUST SIT THERE IN The Chair and wait…

Sorry. There is only so much (or so many feet) a person can handle…

Now that that** is off my chest, maybe it wasn’t all the snowflake’s fault. When confronted with the need to entertain yourself, there is only so much philosophy you can knead before your mind wanders back into the real world. The Real Trump World. Actually, it might not be Trump’s world which is really bothering me. It’s The Billionaires’ World.  There’s the problem. Often wonder what you would do if you had enough money to do anything you want? And do it over and over again? Elon’s 14 “reported” kids show what he is interested in when not designing cars, spaceships, satellites, and our government’s destruction. But what would YOU do?       

Really. How did we get to a place where nothing has value since we have enough to pay the cost of anything. Is there anything money can’t buy, these days?

Of all the shortcomings made obvious by mankind’s history, the ability to be callous and indifferent to a poorer, weaker population is the most egregious, the most revealing of basic human nature. The amount of money estimated to raise every United States Citizen out of poverty (for one year) is about $175 billion. I have trouble with a figure so easily obtained, but let’s use it for now. If $175 billion dollars is doled out to raise the income of everyone under the poverty line to make their income go over the poverty line, it would take $175 billion. AI on google says Musk is estimated to be worth $433 billion. At the end of 2024. The Richest Man In The World.

If (not when) I were worth $433 billion, I’d try the experiment of giving away $175 billion to poor people and see what happens. Keep in mind Mush (sic. It’s a cute typo so it stays.) would still have $258 billion left to play…anything he wants. Or do it again, next year.

As for me, with my remaining $258 billion (yes, I am repeating it as often as possible), I’d build a big dome over my apartment complex and have my building be the only building in upstate New York not needing a snow plow. We’d have restaurants, gyms, pools, and…

Largesse and Noblis Oblige. Don’t read, here, anymore. Google those two terms. Homework.

A second contribution to the mood so dark I’ve named it “The Other Side of The Moon”, is how hard it is to understand people on the right. MAGAns are working tirelessly to make their brave, new world sound like a nice place to live, like the world is “just the way they want it”, and “Trump is doing exactly what he said he’d do.” Perfection. These are neighbors. Old friends. Fellow citizens who—for some reason—cannot fathom the destruction TRUSK (copywrite pending) is causing to the world, the country, to states, to cities, to towns, and to people who only wanted to have a good job for the rest of their lives. Federal workers are NOT Deep State Moles and conspirators. Really, they are not.

Aw, screw it. Daylight Savings Time is coming Sunday. Spring. Hope. Rebirth.

But, of what?

** Double that’s. My work here is done.

Trump, no more

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Yep, it’s true. These are the last, few sentences I’ll write about Felon47. It isn’t because he’s stopped lying, whining, and doing bad things, but everyone is starting to take notice. Finally. You’ll hear all about it in the coming months. My words aren’t needed, anymore.

So…what do we talk about, now?

My little town in upstate New York was thrust into the “Lake Effect Snowbelt” these past few weeks. It is a phenomenon unique to the states east of The Great Lakes (google them). Cold winds coming from the west, northwest flow over the still warm lakes and suck up huge amounts of water, which gets deposited over land as the wind sweeps off last lake. It doesn’t get deposited as water, but as snow. It snows so much and for so long it’s hard to believe each snowflake is different. AI says each flake is different because “each snowflake follows a different path through the air, experiencing different conditions.” I call bull$%^& and need to see some proof: they all look the same when you’re shoveling.

Historically, the Lake Effect drops snow bombs farther north of my city, dumping as much as 30 feet of snow, annually, on small towns and farms whose denizens are veterans of the flaky onslaught. They relish it. Local parking lots are not filled with cars but snowmobiles. The Tug Hill Plateau region holds the (unofficial) New York State record of 77 inches of snowfall in 24 hours. Each flake unique, beautiful, and fragile. Right. How many unique flakes in 77 inches spread over acres and acres? Bull%$#@. Imagine someone looking at each flake…

How many flakes? I finally understand the concept of “infinity”.

The last two weeks a wind shift has pushed the lake effect south…to me… and I’ve been in The Chair watching it from the warmth and comfort of my second-floor apartment. (And sharing it with my friends in the south, garnering immense pity.) Most days there has been some form of legal restriction on travel: states of emergency, weather advisories, warnings, and often things are just closed so there is no reason to venture out. But some do, with hilarious consequence. Maybe they’re checking the uniqueness of flakes? Or just like to move snow around.

As noted in an earlier “complaint” about snowfall in upstate New York, humans are the best entertainment in bad conditions. We are fun to watch.

The complex I live in has a sense of humor, too. Imagine trying to clear a parking lot full of snow when the parking lot is full of cars. And the snow never stops. Management tried to get us to move our cars in concert during the first snow blast last month. About 50 per cent of us did, which you can imagine, made it worse. So when the next management notice came about moving cars to clear an area no one moved. Now that’s progress.

It’s the end of February so the big lake effect snows may be over, but after a strange, 10 months of unusual weather highlighted by a rare summer tornado and rare lake effect snow, it can only mean I owe the lifetime residents an apology for moving here last April.

For more than that reason, I am truly sorry.

But: Spring is coming! And MAGAns are turning against…oops…almost said that name.