This was the day of SNOMAPOCALYPTAGEDDON: the cities braced for eight inches of something they call snow, a strange heretofore substance that would fall from the sky and make life so difficult we would be talking about this for years. The power would go out, and we would be forced to heat our homes with fireplaces. The cordwood was stacked like dead people! Rush hour would be a “nightmare,” even though no one ever has nightmares about driving slowly through compacted precipitation in solid form.
We have nightmares about waking up one morning and finding our body has grown fibrous Koosh balls all over, or we find ourselves at a strange version of Times Square’s Hotel Edition, except that the basement is filled with splendid Art Deco design, and has a secret passage that leads to an oddly depopulated New York where ominous men in coats eye you from the mouth of an alley, and you realize you have brick at your back and nowhere to go. Yes, this would be a jolly old storm, a blizzard, a stern lesson in the bitter truths of late winter: it’s never over. Winter is the bogeyman who pops up in the last reel after he’s been killed – and even if his head is removed at the end of the film, he’ll be back in the sequel.
There’s always a sequel.
So how did it go?
At noon I took this picture of the patio. Or used an electron microscope to capture a new virus I’ve discovered. Your call.
The snow began around 12:30; started light, and quickly turned heavy. I had to go to Natalie’s school to read for the Readathon, and took these on the way:
It was miserable stuff – some varieties of snow has an unerring ability to get down your collar no matter how tightly you button up.
At the school I read “Despereaux” to an attentive audience, although my daughter said I was “too dramatic” some times. Everyone’s a critic. At least the kids weren’t totally bored; the teach had shown them one of my Strib videos the day before, and apparently they had enjoyed our patented “hi-jinx,” so I had the wind behind my back. Asked, as usual, how many of them took the newspaper at home. About 3/4s of the hands went up. Interesting note: most looked at the comics; almost no one looked at the weather. My kid does. Loves to see where it’s warm elsewhere.
I took her home, since it was easier than putting her on a bus. On the way out she wanted to show me her locker: pictures of dogs and cats, magnets she liberated from the fridge downstairs. One of them is the old Texaco emblem, which she connects to Grandpa. I love to see that. He hasn’t been with Texaco for years – switched to Conoco when Texaco left the market. That was a lateral move, I guess; one venerable red brand for another. Then Conoco left, and now we’re with Tesoro, a brand unknown to the Twin Cities. He’ll always be a Texaco Man, as far as I’m concerned.
Anyway. The walls were decorated with class projects about famous people. These were interesting:
We can all agree on #3, perhaps. John Lennon? Isn’t this like kids in the 70s writing a paper about Al Jolson? Then there’s this:
Drove home, finished a column. No great satisfaction with this one. Then off through the snow to karate. I walked next door to the coffee shop, noting with small satisfaction that the sign in the window listed the hours of operation. The other side has the usual “Sorry we missed you, but we’re closed” text, and for weeks that was the side that faced out. No one turned it around in the morning. One day I finally turned it around myself – not out of some sense of civic duty, but because it disturbed the universe. Or rather my universe. Same diff. I usually order a dark roast, give them one of the many gift cards I’ve accumulated over the years, answer the trivia question for a dime off the total (“What is the capital of Star Wars? A) Wookietown, B) Trantor, C) Coruscant, D) Liberty City”) and try a free sample of some pastry I’ll never buy. Today I was greeted by giant urns with a handmade sign: FREE COFFEE.
This rather defeats the point, doesn’t it? I asked, and they said they’d had a big catering order cancel, presumably because of the weather. Help yourself; it was this or pour it out. To which I wanted to say, well, good God, man, pour it out. Even if they didn’t pay you, this isn’t helping the bottom line.
I pulled 12 ounces of dark roast, and bought a pastry. Really, do I have to do everything by myself here to keep you in business?
At Karate I read “Cinnamon Kiss” by Walter Mosley, and kept an eye on her karate moves. At the end of the day she had a huge advance: THREE stripes. Big grins. Supper at Subway, with Daddy’s usual boring lecture about the buildings on the wallpaper.
Home, work. Another column to write. About what, I don’t know; my mind’s been in eight places all week, thanks to the SuperSecret Project.
It debuts Monday, noon, at startribune.com. On the front page. It’s a big thing. Just you wait.
But that’s for later. For now: there’s the now-traditional Friday Lance up at buzz.mn; 100 Mysteries should be popping up around noon, with Evening Commercial Break later in the day. Friday! Enjoy, and see you soon.
Oh: Strib column.
Oh: the snow, at 11 PM. They didn’t tell me we’d be hit by ping-pong balls.
Pass it along, if you wish
37 Responses to Friday, Feb. 27
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I am a bit taken aback by those class projects on famous
people.
I came from the Bobbs Merrill era. The biographies we
had were all of the “Abe Lincoln–Young Rail Splitter”
variety. The books were all cheerful and glossed over
anything unpleasant or controversial.
It must make it more interesting for the teacher to have
to explain about dealers mixing heroin with baby powder!
We were promised a “weather event” in December, which turned out to be a bit of dull drizzle. Snow fell in January which, according to the newspapers, “brought the country to a standstill.” The country being London.
Greetings from Scotland, btw. I’m enjoying your bleatings.
James, I’d be curious to hear your thoughts on the death of another newspaper, as today’s the final issue of the (Denver) Rocky Mountain News, two months shy of its 150th year in busness.
http://www.rockymountainnews.com/
Baby powder? I think it was baby formula. Talcum powder in the veins would probably not enhance the experience. (not that I know anything about that).
So, Monday Noon the big super-secret project is unveiled, eh? My calendar is marked.
I think it was cocaine in baby powder, heroin in baby formula. Cocaine powder blends so well with baby powder, or even flour. Heroin is usually in liquid form before being consumed, so it mixes well with baby formula.
…Not that I would know anything about this.
Be glad you’re not living down here in Georgia during the SNOMAPOCALYPTAGEDDON. Here it would be more of a SNOWPOCALYPTAGEDDOPHANY. I think I covered bad weather in Georgia on my blog.
Sigh, I wouldn’t mind a little snow. The kind we usually get here in GA. Everything stops for a day. The kids break out sleds from who-knows-where and tiny snowmen form. By the afternoon the streets are drying as the temperature rises above freezing and everything goes back to normal by the next day. Unfortunately we are about due for a snow/ice event. Those get dicey.
5. John is the walrus.
6. John’s no-talent wife broke up the Beatles.
7. John was shot on the way home.
8. John said he was more popular than Jesus.
9. John had a lost weekend.
10. John saw a UFO.
11. John was weird.
nightmares. the other night, I had one. hosting some home improvement show, clearing out The Project Room, and it fell to me to carry the bobcat. yes, the big folding cage that took up a whole wall was being unscrewed and folded up, and I had to carry the bobcat. as in snarling ball of vicious fur.
by hand, there was no transfer cage. held by the back, nasty-business end pointed away, head up, squeezing through the bones on either side of the spine.
and there was no destination cage, which nobody thought of until I was outside the bathroom. “can’t throw this cat in there, he’ll claw out and kill us.”
now everybody’s concerned.
NOW the bobcat starts screaming, squirming, the claws and teeth are out, and all I can do is squeeze harder.
wakey-wakey.
and all I could think of for the next half-hour is, “oh, that poor, poor, hurting cat.”
Patrick, I’m down here in Albany, Georgia (aka “Hell’s Waiting Room”) and I WISH we had snow, EVER, because living here is like having Kobe Bryant’s postgame socks permanently duct-taped to your face. Floods, we can have. Bugs big enough to carry luggage? Check. But no snow.
Having compactable parcels of weather all over the neighborhood hit
lots of the north country this year .As usual , ya’ll got the worst of it.
As well as plenty o’ Houston’s pity.
Not nearly so tundraesque , our weather can only be poured .
Known variosly as rain,humidity and sweat it all runs downhill, towards my shorts.
We did not freeze at all ,memorably,this year. That will bring bumper mosquito crops .
I miss the snow from my college years,the astonishing beauty ,crisp air ,
and fresh smell that are a daily part of your world all winter .
Having 4 seasons would astonish most here ,for the most part ,all we get is some minor variable of Summer .(This does not disuade us from playing ‘winter rules’ at the golf course , 7/5 thru 7/3 annually).
Pretty much it is all golfin weather here tho .
266.5 rounds in a year is my personal record ,at least 95% played in shorts.
Maybe it is not quite available 24/7/365,more like 14/7/330 ,if you are so afflicted.
In anticipation of winter I have had the fireplace loaded and ready for 2 years.
Long range forecasts predict a day of winter either next year,or soon thereafter .
This is not so much Global warming, just Texas.
As a dedicated Bleat reader I have enjoyed starting my days here ,forever (it seems ).
Such snowballs to the face as Gnat would deliver ,or you in columns written on winter
are the stuff of dreams for someone who has only seen snow a few times .
TV says Fargo is 2 degrees,and buried . Minneapolis is probably the same .
I would offer a trade of snow for oppressive heat w the Gnatagirrrl ,
but on passing in the mail they would probably wet those cardboard boxes until the labels were unreadable,and then where would we be ?
Back here bleating about it ,that is where !
As always James,thank you for writing .
You NEVER get advance warning that you’re going to be hit by ping-pong balls. Just ask the Captain.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSpPyTNSlTU
Greetings from Scotland, btw. I’m enjoying your bleatings.
When I lived in St. Andrews it once got down to a temperature so heart-stoppingly cold that it is best expressed as 281 Kelvin. I didn’t quite feel like wearing a short-sleeved shirt, but it was rather amusing to see the English undergrads staggering around in heavy coats and scarves.
Immediate answer that popped into my head was “Trantor.” Which, of course, popped right back out because that was the capital of the Empire in Asimov’s Foundation series. Not being a Star Wars geek, I would guess Coruscant? But, it’s probably “Liberty City,” what with the whole Space Opera thing of Star Wars…
I refuse to Google it. Refuse, I say!
So what was the answer? I hope it was “Wookietown”.
Gotta move on
Gotta move on
Won’t you take me to
Wookietown?
Won’t you take me to
Wookietown?
Won’t you take me to
Wookietown?
Gotta move to a town that’s right for me
A town that’s got the right kind of Jedi energy.
(My deepest apologies to George Lucas)
Mr Lileks, I tried to email you about this, but your box was full. While rooting around in my mom’s attic, I came across a 1969 copy of the World Book Yearbook. It’s in battered shape, but as a cultural artifact, it’s amazing. There’s an article about movies that describes George Lucas as a promising film student. There’s an article about the Middle East that makes a one-sentence reference to “challenging new element: terrorism.” A model depicting the WTC before it was built. If you’d like to have it, please email me and I’ll send it to you.
TMI on the Bill Clinton bio. I never got into the Presidents’ parents when we studied them growing up. However my 4 year old came home from Preschool in the Fall and proudly proclaimed that she was endorsing Barack Obama for the Presidency in 2008. I asked her how she knew about Senator Obama, and she said that they talked about him “all day” at school. I asked her if they talked about any other candidates like Senator McCain, and she said, “there’s someone else running for President too?”
A footnote: The Palin pick swung both the 4 & 7 year olds.
Just to be technically accurate… 1 and 3 were probably correct, and 2 and 4 were correct some of the time.
It’s a good start for a newbie.
I started listening to the Beatles of the 20th anniversary of Sgt. Peppers. I had a lot to learn.
…and OH MY GOD THAT WAS 20 YEARS AGO!
[beatles-geek] Lennon played rhythm guitar. George played lead. (Paul was bass). [/beatles-geek]
Sorry I couldn’t see the lovely snow in Mpls yesterday. I’m afraid I had a previous engagement:
I went in last week for my son’s “I love to read” month. A room full of first graders captivated by the Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham. My son’s teacher said I was the one of the only parents for the class that volunteered. How sad is that? Kids are such an easy audience! Well as long as you get the voices right, they are.
Re: the snow. What a flipping mess. I left work at 2:00 and it took an hour and a half to go 30 miles. Shoveled 3 inches off the sidewalk at 4pm and another 4 inches this morning. Arghh someone drive a stake through winter’s heart.
Oops. Blew the link. Let’s try again:
HunkyBob, you’re wrong. John wasn’t the Walrus. The Walrus was Paul. That’s a clue for you all.
Whatever. It was lovely here in AZ.
and that’s a good thing, too. keep all that lovely warm, dry, pleasant weather down South where it won’t wreck our days sliding sideways into buses and falling on our keisters at the mailbox.
one can’t have enough weather misery, I always say.
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NOT
no, Paul was dead. John couldn’t say that. until New York. then he still couldn’t say it.
12. John wrote the best stalker song:
Well I’d rather see you dead, little girl
than to be with another man
You better keep your head, little girl
or I won’t know where I am
You better run for your life if you can, little girl
Hide your head in the sand little girl
Catch you with another man
That’s the end’a little girl
Dave In Tucson Not just Bass, but left handed</i? Bass.
Last year I read The Lorax to my daughter’s 1st grade class. They were enthralled. When finished, my daughter asked why I had read it in “that voice”: like the news guys on TV. Meaning that I enunciated ev.er.y syl.la.ble such as this – and with my announce baritone. Always leave ‘em wanting more, I guess.
Hey! The Strib link goes straight to the column now.
Thanks.
12. John complained about security, but didn’t actually do anything about it –
http://momentsintime.com/Lennon%20Dakota%20Security%20Concerns.htm
I was here, but I disappear.
“The books were all cheerful and glossed over
anything unpleasant or controversial.”
That was my first thought, too. I don’t think I knew what an alcoholic was (or knew how to spell it) until high school.
Thank you for using the most difficult word to pronounce:
SNOMAPOCALYPTAGEDDON
I have spent valuable minutes trying to say this word, and then after it was over, I felt completely disgusted with myself.
I didn’t know any alcoholics until high school.
That first couple of grafs is what hooked me to your style. “The cordwood was stacked like dead people!” Prime stuff, man, a jolt of pure juice to the creative vein.
Baby powder,baby formula..thanks for the education. It makes sense. I think I was so shocked to think the
primary source material for book reports these days
includes some of the world’s harsher realities…
Geeez. Real Life is no Leave It To Beaver Episode,but
can we not save some of the truly awful stuff for them
to learn about in high school and college?
Criminy, looks cold in Mpls. Here in The Glorious Heroic Peoples’ Revolutionary Soviet of Austin, Texas, we suffered through a record high of 87 degrees Fahrenheit. (But only 60 degrees(F) tomorrow, Saturday.)
I always said that I would LOVE to live in a place that has a *REAL* Fall and a *REAL* Winter – with snow and stuff. Yeah: for about a week.
“The cordwood was stacked like dead people!”
My father said they would “stack their dead like cordwood” in the Pacific during WW2. Did you get that from your father, Mr. Lileks?