There's a new lock on our door. Kind of symbolic.
The wind has changed. During August and September the wind would not come into the apartment, even with both windows and the sliding door open. Now, for the past week, the wind has been coming from the southwest and blowing directly inside. And, because it's been raining and cold, the smokers aren't out to force us to close those windows and the sliding door.
I'm not a cold weather person, despite living in Minnesota. However, it has been several years since we've had what I would call a "normal" Minnesota winter. When I was young we often had nasty cold snaps strike around Christmas and last about a month. Then we would get a "thaw" in January followed by several weeks of extreme cold. In the last ten years I think we've actually had a couple of winters in which nature was not able to maintain a snow cover through the winter.
But it's cold now. For me. Once it falls below sixty I think it's cold, and we haven't had sixty degrees in quite a while.
I'm not looking forward to this winter. If it's this cold already in September and October, then perhaps we are in store for a "normal" winter this year. Cold. Snow. Ice. Yuck.
Showing posts with label Weather. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Weather. Show all posts
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Ostracized By Summer
We are having one frikkin' cold summer. Most people around here seem to be happy with it. On the television the news and weather crews keep talking about how 'wonderful' it has been. Wonderful? It's frikkin' cold! In July! We should be enduring temps bordering - and sometimes exceeding - 100 degrees. (That's about 38-39 for those you who measure in celsius.)
I guess I make a poor Minnesotan. Born and raised here, I hate cold weather. Even as a young person I seldom went outside in winter. Only when I had to. There was a person (who shall remain nameless) from my past who used to say, "I like winter better than summer. At least in winter you can put on more clothes. There's only so much you can take off." Well thank God for that!
Most Minnesotans complain about the heat in July and August and then b*tch about cold in December and January. Not me. I moan about the cold all year long and never complain about the heat. Even when it's too hot for me. It's such a rare commodity in this state. Of course, now that I'm incredibly fat I cannot tolerate heat at all anymore. But I won't complain. The heat didn't make me fat. I did that on my own. And when I wasn't fat I could tolerate anything.
Used to convince Stephen to play best-of-five sets in tennis when it was 101 degrees. That's how I know he had to have loved me. Stephen was not a hot weather person. He was the one who got me to go out into the snow. (The things we do for love.) But poor Stephen would just be melting in the heat while I sailed through point after point. Our most famous match came on a Saturday in August when it was 102 and not a cloud in the sky. I won in straight sets: 6-0; 6-0; 6-0. The only points Stephen won were my three double-faults. The final point was scored on his weak lob to the net. I rushed forward and smashed the ball to the court. Stephen wearily turned to fetch the ball. When he did I noticed him brush his shoulder. When we got to J's Pizza (a favorite hangout which still exists in Spring Lake Park this day) he had downed a couple of Pepsi Colas he confessed something.
Remember when you hit that last point?
Yeah.
Did you see me brush my shoulder?
Yeah.
Well, just as the ball went past me a bird flew over and sh*t on me. I thought it an appropriate end to the game.
It's been so cold around here I decided to put in a Christmas movie last night. Polar Express. Just out of spite. Of course, I fell asleep just as they reached the North Pole. I do that now when I watch movies at home. Fall asleep. I expect I could put in a movie ten minutes after getting a restful night's sleep and be out again before the thing is half through. I suppose it doesn't help that I watch television while laying in a bed.
No hot weather. Not a fun summer at all.
I guess I make a poor Minnesotan. Born and raised here, I hate cold weather. Even as a young person I seldom went outside in winter. Only when I had to. There was a person (who shall remain nameless) from my past who used to say, "I like winter better than summer. At least in winter you can put on more clothes. There's only so much you can take off." Well thank God for that!
Most Minnesotans complain about the heat in July and August and then b*tch about cold in December and January. Not me. I moan about the cold all year long and never complain about the heat. Even when it's too hot for me. It's such a rare commodity in this state. Of course, now that I'm incredibly fat I cannot tolerate heat at all anymore. But I won't complain. The heat didn't make me fat. I did that on my own. And when I wasn't fat I could tolerate anything.
Used to convince Stephen to play best-of-five sets in tennis when it was 101 degrees. That's how I know he had to have loved me. Stephen was not a hot weather person. He was the one who got me to go out into the snow. (The things we do for love.) But poor Stephen would just be melting in the heat while I sailed through point after point. Our most famous match came on a Saturday in August when it was 102 and not a cloud in the sky. I won in straight sets: 6-0; 6-0; 6-0. The only points Stephen won were my three double-faults. The final point was scored on his weak lob to the net. I rushed forward and smashed the ball to the court. Stephen wearily turned to fetch the ball. When he did I noticed him brush his shoulder. When we got to J's Pizza (a favorite hangout which still exists in Spring Lake Park this day) he had downed a couple of Pepsi Colas he confessed something.
Remember when you hit that last point?
Yeah.
Did you see me brush my shoulder?
Yeah.
Well, just as the ball went past me a bird flew over and sh*t on me. I thought it an appropriate end to the game.
It's been so cold around here I decided to put in a Christmas movie last night. Polar Express. Just out of spite. Of course, I fell asleep just as they reached the North Pole. I do that now when I watch movies at home. Fall asleep. I expect I could put in a movie ten minutes after getting a restful night's sleep and be out again before the thing is half through. I suppose it doesn't help that I watch television while laying in a bed.
No hot weather. Not a fun summer at all.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Living in a Quiet Place During Storm Season
It's severe storm season here in Minnesota, and while other areas of the state have experienced tornadoes, strong wind, floods and such, nothing at all like that has happened here at our little place in the state. We've had a couple of thunderstorms, but they were mild things. The weather sirens have not gone off (except for the first Wednesday of the month at 1:00 p.m.). The poor guy across the street has only sat out in his garage once. It was before dawn to watch the latest fizzle pass through. He likes to sit in his garage and watch the truly strong storms pass through. Personally, I think he's nuts. But then I walked out last year and collected a bowl of hail to bring in and show Spouse and Son. Like they'd never seen hail before. Did you know that being struck by a piece of hail just slightly smaller in size than a Hershey's Kiss hurts like h*ll? Well, duh to me. We just recently took the bowl out of the freezer and let the ice melt. It had all kind of globbed into one giant ice cube anyway.
The Old House used to stand in the middle of Thunderstorm Alley. It seemed if there was a major storm anywhere in the state it took a straight course for The Old House. It must have been built by the finest craftsmen in the world, for rickety as it seemed, even the shingles never blew off. Trees fell all around it. Mighty oaks, standing guard, cracked off at their base, or were torn up by the roots. But The Old House always stood. It took Daddy's clumbsiness to burn it down.
There was no real safe place to go during a storm at The Old House. Unlike this house. The utility room is about as safe from a storm as one could hope for. But The Old House had no such safe havens. The basement was filled with poisonous gas. We didn't know it at the time, but it was also damp, musty, and incredibly creepy. NOBODY wanted to be down there in the dark. Fifty to one hundred yards away was the root cellar. It was a structure built into the side of a hill. It was rectangular in shape. Four cinder block walls and a wooden roof. A chimney in the center. Dirt floor. It wasn't exactly a thrill to be in there, either, but often we kids were sent there for our safety.
Still recall the time Judayl was in the bath when a major storm hit. We had no sirens back then. Everything was gauged on senses: sight, sound, smell (yes, you can smell a storm coming), and sixth. When a big oak tree in the front yard toppled Lynahr screamed for Judayl to get out so we could all rush to the root cellar. Judayl came out wrapped in a towel and clinging her clothes. I had to stand outside while she got dressed. Hail hurt just as bad back then. And Judayl wasn't one of those "get the clothes on and you're done" kind of people. Have no idea what she did, but it always took her forever to get dressed. So by the time they opened the door to let me in, the worst was over and we could return to the house. Got to see a lot of flying debris first hand.
We were often out in storms back then. Without a true safe place to be it became the stirred ants' nest every time there was a threat of tornado. Our decisions never made any sense at all. Even at the time.
The year before The Old House burned a major storm struck on Helvie's birthday. We were having a family party and Mickey and Lynahr were home with their spouses. It was night. The storm began to rage and the house began to shake. Fearing the house was about to be blown apart Mother cried that we had to get out. So everybody ran out of the house. In our added brilliance we decided that sitting in cars would be safe, so we all piled into three cars to wait out the storm.
Then Mother saw the shed which housed our chickens. The frequent lightning flashes lit up the yard better than the yard light - which seldom worked. She gave me the order. "Bevie, go nail up that rug again so the rain can't get in at the chickens."
Dutifullly, I went. I raced as fast as I could through the downpour. No hail this time, but the rain was coming down so heavy it felt like hail on my face. I got to the shed and looked inside. The chickens were huddled against the far wall. I rehung the rug and turned to run back to the car. I could see everyone waving at me. And then it happened.
One minute I had my eyes focused on the car. The next I was staring up into a black sky. Then I landed with a thud. The water was halfway up my body. That's how hard it was raining. I lay there stunned. I had run into something. Looking, I saw it was the d*amn guidewire on the utility pole. It had caught me right across my neck and down across my chest. I got up. I was one hundred percent wet now. Looking at the cars I saw everyone was laughing hysterically. No need to return to that. I went into the house.
Turns out the reason they had all been waving at me was because the rug had fallen again. They made Gayanne go out and fix it. Within minutes everyone was back in the house. The house still shook, but not so bad. The storm was passing. I became the focus of everyone's laughter for the rest of the evening.
Sometimes I miss the storms. There is something exciting about them. I know they're dangerous. People get injured and killed from storms all through the summer. But, like the neighbor who likes to sit in his garage and watch them, there is this urge which beckons us to get out and experience the storm with our skin.
It hurts, you know. Especially if there's hail.
The Old House used to stand in the middle of Thunderstorm Alley. It seemed if there was a major storm anywhere in the state it took a straight course for The Old House. It must have been built by the finest craftsmen in the world, for rickety as it seemed, even the shingles never blew off. Trees fell all around it. Mighty oaks, standing guard, cracked off at their base, or were torn up by the roots. But The Old House always stood. It took Daddy's clumbsiness to burn it down.
There was no real safe place to go during a storm at The Old House. Unlike this house. The utility room is about as safe from a storm as one could hope for. But The Old House had no such safe havens. The basement was filled with poisonous gas. We didn't know it at the time, but it was also damp, musty, and incredibly creepy. NOBODY wanted to be down there in the dark. Fifty to one hundred yards away was the root cellar. It was a structure built into the side of a hill. It was rectangular in shape. Four cinder block walls and a wooden roof. A chimney in the center. Dirt floor. It wasn't exactly a thrill to be in there, either, but often we kids were sent there for our safety.
Still recall the time Judayl was in the bath when a major storm hit. We had no sirens back then. Everything was gauged on senses: sight, sound, smell (yes, you can smell a storm coming), and sixth. When a big oak tree in the front yard toppled Lynahr screamed for Judayl to get out so we could all rush to the root cellar. Judayl came out wrapped in a towel and clinging her clothes. I had to stand outside while she got dressed. Hail hurt just as bad back then. And Judayl wasn't one of those "get the clothes on and you're done" kind of people. Have no idea what she did, but it always took her forever to get dressed. So by the time they opened the door to let me in, the worst was over and we could return to the house. Got to see a lot of flying debris first hand.
We were often out in storms back then. Without a true safe place to be it became the stirred ants' nest every time there was a threat of tornado. Our decisions never made any sense at all. Even at the time.
The year before The Old House burned a major storm struck on Helvie's birthday. We were having a family party and Mickey and Lynahr were home with their spouses. It was night. The storm began to rage and the house began to shake. Fearing the house was about to be blown apart Mother cried that we had to get out. So everybody ran out of the house. In our added brilliance we decided that sitting in cars would be safe, so we all piled into three cars to wait out the storm.
Then Mother saw the shed which housed our chickens. The frequent lightning flashes lit up the yard better than the yard light - which seldom worked. She gave me the order. "Bevie, go nail up that rug again so the rain can't get in at the chickens."
Dutifullly, I went. I raced as fast as I could through the downpour. No hail this time, but the rain was coming down so heavy it felt like hail on my face. I got to the shed and looked inside. The chickens were huddled against the far wall. I rehung the rug and turned to run back to the car. I could see everyone waving at me. And then it happened.
One minute I had my eyes focused on the car. The next I was staring up into a black sky. Then I landed with a thud. The water was halfway up my body. That's how hard it was raining. I lay there stunned. I had run into something. Looking, I saw it was the d*amn guidewire on the utility pole. It had caught me right across my neck and down across my chest. I got up. I was one hundred percent wet now. Looking at the cars I saw everyone was laughing hysterically. No need to return to that. I went into the house.
Turns out the reason they had all been waving at me was because the rug had fallen again. They made Gayanne go out and fix it. Within minutes everyone was back in the house. The house still shook, but not so bad. The storm was passing. I became the focus of everyone's laughter for the rest of the evening.
Sometimes I miss the storms. There is something exciting about them. I know they're dangerous. People get injured and killed from storms all through the summer. But, like the neighbor who likes to sit in his garage and watch them, there is this urge which beckons us to get out and experience the storm with our skin.
It hurts, you know. Especially if there's hail.
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