Well, what can I tell you? I am bored and uninspired this week. (Maybe I’m just too excited about the Bromfield reading we are doing on the other blog to worry too much about anything else.)
Here we are, cuddled under blankets, listening to the accumulating ice outside, searching and scheming the internet for the best ticket prices to flee back to my beloved New Orleans.
Do you have any tips for us there?
Oh, nevermind, it might be too late by then.
I know—we’ve been talking about people complaining about weather, and people complaining about people complaining about weather. I’m not doing either. But I am lost in this listless middle region. Part of me is embracing winter, part of me is detesting winter; most of me is panicked about driving in winter weather to the office (I have had two accidents while driving in storms to work, neither of which should have had to happen).
Also, mostly more, I just want to go to New Orleans. And maybe for some hot chocolate. (The latter is easier to accomplish.)
What do you want, mostly?
Hey. Superbowl. What happened?
I know, I know, the Internet has been flooded this morning with references of the same. And hey, I’m not talking reality TV here on this reality Monday?
Well, I think we kind of are.
Sports are reality TV in quite a way, aren’t they? I think so. It’s reality. It’s in the moment, it’s (supposed to be) unscripted, viewers get very caught up in it—it dominates conversations after the fact.
The Superbowl is the epitome of this. It’s all fanfare. There’s months of games and planning until the big day. BAM! We all get together, we watch the game, and half of us don’t care—the other half really care.
And then, sometimes, a game like last night happens. Chef—who is a devoted Colts fan of the last two decades, and therefore a forever-fan of Peyton Manning—asked to turn off the Superbowl midway through the third quarter. We did, we worked on our never-ending process of cleaning out the DVR. I thought to myself, “Boy, I don’t think I ever turned off a Superbowl before.” So while scrolling through Facebook, I was slightly stunned to see the same thing. Everyone (that’s a huge exaggeration) also turned off the Superbowl.
So what happened?
What led to the memes (Mom, come get me…Beyonce, turn out the lights)? Who was that man out on the field? Is there a way I can talk about him without being so hard on him?
Good golly, I just don’t know anymore.
What was I supposed to be talking about again before I kept getting so distracted by the obvious? How sports are like reality TV? Oh, right.
How did you find your Superbowl?
Back to our regularly scheduling blogging next week.
1) I wish some birthdays. This is a big time of year in my circle of family and friends for birthdays. I hope everyone has a great birthday. I hope they all know how much I love them. I hope they feel loved on their birthdays and every other day.
2) I wish the groundhog, this morning, did whatever he was supposed to do to end winter soon. Few things about this: yes, I live in Pennsylvania and I’m not even completely sure how the custom goes. Also, I realize it has no bearing and is basically an inversion of the same sentence. However, have you ever seen the celebration in the middle of PA? It’s like a rave all night. I don’t know why we don’t try to get more tourism out of this. (Note: I do not live in the middle part of PA; that part scares me. If you’re reading this and live in the middle of PA, you are certainly not one of the offenders.)
3) I wish we can just have a considerably thorough cure for cancer. I just don’t know what to say. We just keep getting hit with bad news after bad news about this terrible disease. (I’m including you in the “we”, because I sadly know too well that it could be happening to you too.) This week, in our Pulitzer reading (over on my other blog, where that link takes you), there was a medical researcher and a lot of talk about how he should get around to curing cancer. I’m sure that while penning this Sinclair Lewis could not have dreamed we would still know so very little in 2014.
What do you wish for?
Dear Those Complaining About Winter AND Those Complaining About Those Complaining About Winter:
Hush up. Everyone, just shut it. Shut it up. Shut it down. Knock it off.
Hi: it’s winter.
And in case you had forgotten, and that frigid-y blast from this morning wasn’t enough of a reminder, I am here to let you know: it’s winter.
This means two things: 1) yes, it’s cold. It’s going to be cold. It’s going to be bad weather. Unless it stays warm and dry all winter in places where it’s supposed to be cold and precipitating, in which case, we have bigger problems than wearing enough layers. 2) There will be bad weather and snow and ice and it’s rough. We are having (at least in this neck of the woods) a harsher winter than we are normally accustomed to. It’s colder. It’s snowier than we have gotten used to. Traveling is difficult. Heating prices are extravagant. Yes, complaining is going to happen.
On both sides.
It’s so cold I cannot think straight. Other countries are rioting and revolutioning. There are very serious concerns about safety at the Winter Olympics. Bitcoins—there’s a lot of bitcoin things happening. I can’t even talk about anything else because I’m so cold.
Nothing outside of keeping the circulation in my hands matter to me right now.
That’s extreme sarcasm.
More or less.
But it’s cold. And I suppose it is ridiculous—either side. Yet we keep complaining about both. And I’m not sure which is more eye-roll causing.
A few weeks ago I was having a bite and a few drinks out at a local watering hole. In the process of the evening, two of the regular male patrons are speaking angrily to the bartender about why the kids didn’t have school in our district the next day because of how cold it was. The bartender has children in the district. I am almost positive she had nothing to do with the school’s closure. In fact, it probably inconveniences her life. And these men were asking her why would the schools close, why can’t the kids go to school, why is this happening? And meanwhile, this poor young woman is just trying to keep the piece. She didn’t do it. Furthermore, these men do NOT have children in our school district (their children are grown), so what in all that is good do they care? Why do we care? Why do we care soooooo much?
And why are we complaining soooooo much? About either side?
And why am I complaining so much about everyone else complaining?
These are the eternal questions of the universe.
This makes me my own kind of complainer, doesn’t it? My bad.
Eternally yours while awaiting the thaw,