Cleaning Up

Overheard at Castle Meesh on Sunday, January 22:

“Oh, sure, leave this job for your hetero-friend!”

“What? You don’t want to feel-up the mermaid’s breasts while cleaning her?”

“Not exactly. Just where are Rhonda and Lindsey when you need them, anyway?”

At least it's a WET cold

I never thought I would see the Weather Channel site for my zip code show such
low numbers.

After Houston-style weather for the past week (that is, temperatures in the
fifties), today's high was somewhat of a disappointment: It was just above freezing
and occurred right after midnight. The heater for my townhouse has run non-stop
in a vain attempt to stave off the dropping temperature outside. At least the
snow decided to stop falling much earlier today. The ground looks like the top
of a bundt cake with a sprinkling of powdered sugar. Amazingly, the humidity is above 30%.

However, having made a run to the store earlier, I fully appreciate the weather
advisory regarding potential frost bite because of the wind. And I now understand
why my friend Rhonda kept reminding me that it gets COLD up here.

So, what do I do? I fail to take my mom's advice while outside: I didn't have
a hat, left the gloves in the car, and didn't zip up my parka. I hate admitting
that Mom was right. But I can't admit that Rhonda was right-- because I haven't
yet regretted making the move North...

...other than having to deal with the other drivers and the accents, that is.

Lessons Learned from My First Blizzard

After having 8 inches of snow dumped on my car by a December blizzard,
it will take at least 30 minutes for the car's interior to be comfortably
warm. It's usually a 20-minute drive home.

Even with the car coated in snow, my Texas plates will still be visible.
But the other drivers tailgate anyway. (There's a RANT brewing on that topic.)

I should park the car in the garage, despite the 8 inches of snow covering
it. My garage is not warm enough for all of that snow to melt and destroy
the boxes of unpacked stuff. Because if I don't put it in the garage, then my
driveway never gets plowed. And within a couple of days, that nice,
forgiving snow becomes hard ice! Sure, the car doesn't mind driving over
it, but...

I can't walk on ice.

If the 8 inches of snow haven't melted away after leaving the car out in
the sun for several hours, sweep said snow off the top! Because if I drive
with slushy snow on top of my vehicle, it will come down onto the windshield
as soon as I brake. Visibility = none.

Best lesson of all: Yes, my gas-guzzling, all-wheel-drive SUV can
make it up that icy hill. So take that, you aluminum-plastic-paper-recycling-with
over-priced-homes-and-no-understanding-of-right-of-way Bostonites. (I definitely feel a rant coming on.)

Wicked?

No, not the book. And not the more recent Broadway show.

I mean the "wicked" that modifes every noun, pronoun, adjective and unnecessary adverb uttered by those around me. I actually heard "wicked cool" at the mall yesterday. For a moment, I thought it was a SNL show. Or that I'd gone back to high school, and next I'd hear "major" and "oh my gawd".

But then I remembered that I now live in Massachusetts. Ah, yes. It all makes sense.

It's always wicked in Boston. Whatever "it" may be.