Snow and Ice

All I Want for Christmas...

...is a roof that doesn't leak!

If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. Since writing that first sentence I have spent half an hour in the dripping cold because my wish was not granted. At least not yet. Of course, Christmas is still twenty-three hours and forty-three minutes away as I type, so I can't complain too much for just a LITTLE bit longer.

But seriously folks, this leaking business has been pretty extreme over the past couple days. It started in the addition, where we had to cut a hole in the ceiling to let out the rivulets freely flowing through the insulation over our heads. ("We" are my dad.) There was a pretty bad ice dam on the rook, so "we" shoveled it off and I went to town in treacherous weather to get us some Potassium Chloride (or something like that, a.k.a. ice melting granules) from Aubuchon Hardware. Daddy and I (but mostly Daddy) have sprinkled the stuff on the gutters by the addition several times, and most of the leaking there is taken care of. Just in time for tonight....

As those of you in New Hampshire already know, it's relatively warm and quite rainy this evening in the Granite State. While this is good for our skating prospects (which excites me to no end), it is only the silver lining to a very, very dark cloud.

This seemingly harmless, gentle drizzle combined with the rising temperatures have sent gallons of water sloshing down our various roofs. With our gutters full of ice, we somehow ended up with leaks in our basement and laundry room. More shoveling and sprinkling of chemicals (by "us," of course) ensued.

Lest you think I was lazy, a certain influential member of my family would not allow me - or anyone else in the family except my dad, for that matter - onto the roof. I mostly shoveled the deck, found flashlights and chemicals, and emptied buckets.

Right now I don't know of any more leaking going on, thank God, but you can feel sorry for us all the same.

O! now you weep, and I perceive you feel
The dint of pity; these are gracious drops.
Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold
Our [household]'s vesture wounded?

Glad to hear it.

Quotes from Julius Caesar

Snow: Good or Bad?

& OTHER VITAL SUBJECTS

I no longer press the "New Post" button on the Blogger Dashboard with the same freeness or frequency as I once did. That's a fact. Looking back, I am amazed by how much more rarely I undertake that nudge of the index finger. My blog used to be my LIFE! Now I'm a typical Bible school blogger: I post every couple of months. Or not. But I'm here now, anyway. And since I told myself I wouldn't indulge my habit of writing about how rarely I write, I will now cease to break my self-promises.

I actually did write a LOOOOONG post over Thanksgiving break: "A Day in the Life of a Bible School Student." I had fun writing it, and I think it could be interesting, but I lost my inspiration after writing for HOURS (don't worry, I'm a slow writer) and still having a number of paragraphs to go. I'll finish it later, but I decided recently that working on the same monolithic post forever and failing to actually PUBLISH anything was anything but productive.

There I go again. Writing about how I never write. It's an addiction, I tell you! On to something else:

This is a risky subject, because nearly everyone who still blogs at ALL and who lives in the glorious New England area has already said something about it. But risks are to be taken, and now is as good a time as any.

Snow. There is a LOT of it. So far, to my recollection, we've had three large snowstorms in New Hampshire. It may have been four or five, really, but certainly a minimum of three. And theses are no light dustings either. Mais non, mes amis: we're talking about the clouds dumping DECIMETERS at a time! Is this a good thing or a bad thing? That is the question.

The bad thing is that driving has been made far more difficult than it ever was last December (remember how we had no snow at ALL last December?). I've finished my shopping, fortunately, but not without my fair share of sliding about on the roads between stores. Right now I'm at Grandpa's, on the top of the famed Hill of Chestnuts, and that hill is not a hill for the light of heart right now. No sirree! It was all I could do to get to the top, and it was almost more than I could do to get up my grandfather's driveway! I actually had to get out and - get this - SHOVEL!

Speaking of driveways, my family's driveway is not really for the faint of heart right now either. Nor is it for the poor in driving skills, however stout the condition of their hearts may be. To successfully reach the S. abode, one must first back into the park across the road and then accelerate forward like Jehu. You see, a running start is unarguably necessary in order to reach the top of the first hill; one cannot get sufficient momentum turning into the driveway from the road.

EDIT: I managed it without using the park this morning, but LAST NIGHT it was impossible, and it still may be with some cars.

The rest of the operation is pretty straightforward: drive like Jehu the rest of the way, too. Once you get the hang of it, it's wicked fun. Some cars slide more than others, and those are the best, but even with AWD and snow tires it's great to have any excuse to drive in a manner that would be reckless any other time of year.

(This is not meant to imply that I am ever reckless. I am a cautious soul to the very core of my being.)

Snow also means shoveling. Lots of shoveling. And snowblowing. And leaky roofs. It is, in short, a maintenance nightmare, at least when so much comes at once. I was lucky in that I was sick for most of this last storm, which exempted me from manual labor, but now I'm on the mend and the snow's still coming down. Shoveling is starting to look like a part of life.

I must note here that I do not abhor shoveling, really. It's good exercise, and that means it's good for keeping warm despite the cold. It is also productive exercise, which I far prefer to "unproductive exercise": push-ups, treadmills... basically any exercise for exercise' sake. Shoveling, on the other hand builds your muscle and gets other stuff done at the same time. It's just hard to break the psychological barrier. You know, the voice that says, "You are warm and cozy inside. It's cold and uncozy outside. Cuddle up, be warm. Make yourself happy. That's it. You don't want to spoil the beauty of the undisturbed landscape, do you? So what if no one can get to your house? They should stay inside too; inside where it's warrrrrm, warrrrrrm, warrrrr...."

Yeah. That voice.

Now for the positive sides of the snow: beauty, Christmas spirit, and snowballs. That pretty much sums it up. No explanation needed.

Conclusion:
Snow is good. Snow is fun. Snow is beautiful. However, I believe we now have enough to last us until January at least. Meteorologists, take note.

I Lied.

Yesterday, at our annual family Thanksgiving banquet (even "feast" is too benign a word for the comestibles procured each fourth Thursday of November by and for the S. clan. To paraphrase one cousin in attendance, "Every year, the food is so good that we're never surprised when it turns out amazing.") - OK, that parenthetical note really was a bit too long. If you kept beginning of the sentence in mind throughout those two sentences, I am impressed. I was saying that yesterday, at out annual family Thanksgiving banquet, I told someone that I was not working on any project for school. I meant it at the time but remembered today that I did indeed have an assignment: a Christmas slide show. I worked on that aaaaaaaaall day.

The reason I'm telling you this is that, had I not been tied up aaaall day, I would have written a similar post earlier, thus satisfying the inevitably painful cravings of the more voracious of my readers.

Ahem.

It's hard to believe how long it has been since last I took up my keyboard and updated the world as to my goings on. So much has happened in the last three months that I will not even try to tell it to you all. Even if I were willing to write it all out, I doubt any but the most patient and focused would read it. Having decided, therefore, to be selective in my writing, I will now proceed.

First of all, for those of you who don't know (whom I imagine to be very few, but who should not therefore be ignored), I am attending a Bible school in western NH. To use my memorized description, "It is a small non-accredited Bible college near Keene, NH." I love it. Several of my best friends are there with me in the same year, the classes are interesting, and even the work is sometimes fun (gasp!). I've really enjoyed contemplating the Bible more deeply than I had before. So far my class has covered the Gospels, Acts, and the Epistles of Paul. The teachers have repeatedly stressed that we were just skimming the surface, but even skimming the surface of the meaning of the Bible yields so much good!

Well, now is the time when I reveal how much of a surprise post this really is: I'm not going to say any more!!! Often when I talk about not writing much is when I end up disserting and haranguing - in short, writing much. But not this time, boy howdy! I've got lots of stories jumbled about in my brain that I may try to transcribe over the rest of the weekend (no promises, though), but for now I'm going to give my eyes and fingers a break.

First, though, allow me to wish you a happy Christmas season (is it really here?!), just in case my next blogging hiatus is as long as the last...

P.s. Here's a little music video I made a while ago when Kimberly said something about guys in the dorm making music videos. I ended up being the only one really in it, but Ben did the camera work. Perhaps someday I will manage to rope some of my other dormfellows into a more elaborate production, but for now I trust you enjoy what I am able to offer on my own.

Willful Misinterpretation

Yesterday I did a LOT of driving. Daddy sailed with a couple friends from Portsmouth to S. Darthmouth, MA, on his friend's boat. I'll call the friends Abner (the boat's owner) and Frank (Abner's friend) simply because it can be so much fun to come up with aliases that have some very slight connection to the originals. Anyway, I was supposed to meet them in Dartmouth, drive with them to Portsmouth, and then drive home alone while Daddy followed in his car.

For the sake of fun and convenience, I spent several hours at a friend's house in Rhode Island, a mere half-hour from the marina where Daddy & Co. were to dock. I had a great time there, and my being so near to Daddy's destination enabled him to more accurately estimate when he would need picking up.

Daddy called around eight, and I headed off for Dartmouth with a flair in my shifts (driving a car with a standard transmission's version of walking with a spring in one's step). I came to the marina with very little trouble and was introduced to Abner and Frank.

Abner was (and presumably remains) around fifty-five years of age. I believe he is rather wealthy, but my only supporting evidence is that he owns a $200,000 sailing yacht. As to physical appearance, he reminded me of King Cole, from Wee Sing's immortal classic, King Cole's Party. Those who are familiar with that movie will have a better idea of how he looks than I could probably ever conjure with my own words.

Frank was about ten years Abner's junior. While this may not be entirely fair to him, the movie character that almost immediately jumped to my mind upon seeing him was none other than the infamous toy reseller (Al?) of Toy Story 2 - the one who steals Woody to sell him to a museum in Japan or something crazy and immoral like that. He described himself as part-time massage therapist, part-time chef, and, at one point in the trip, he moaned for about five minutes about serving 220 people "all by himself."

"All alone? Are you serious?" Abner queried with some incredulity.

"Yeah, seriously! I only had four people to peel and cut vegetables, four to serve, two to run the grills, three guys to help set up the tables, and the rest I did all alone! It was ridiculous."

Much of the trip I was rather put off by their conversation, which consisted mostly of bashing policemen and teachers, and which was unfortunately often crude or profane. Daddy changed the subject several times. I tried to absorb myself in my current book, Northanger Abbey, but I could not ignore the steady stream of words from the back seat.

Not all of the conversation was obnoxious, however. The discussion of politics made me laugh quite a bit - even out loud once, although I'm not sure either of the two passengers noticed. This conversation made such a good story that it was actually my impetus for writing this blog post. It all started with Abner talking about the presidential candidates.

"I STILL think that Romney will blow everyone else out of the water!"

"Nah," replied Frank. "Have you seen him up close and personal? He's too much of a slick frat boy."

"Well, I still think he'll win. He's got the most money."

"Yeah, if that's what it comes down to."

"I don't know, I bet Thompson will change things pretty quick," Daddy interjected with a laugh.

"Oh yeah," Frank replied. "Isn't he the guy who isn't really a politician, but acts one?"

Here I put a rare word into the mix: "No, he was a politician before he was an actor." That was probably one of only two or three sentences I spoke the entire journey from Dartmouth to Portsmouth, NH. Abner and Frank probably thought I was a very taciturn individual.

"What's this world coming to when we elect actors for our leaders?" Frank mused. I was going to point out Reagan's magnificently successful presidency, but Frank's next sentence checked me. "Schwarzenegger has been OK, but REAGAN! Reagan was a DISASTER!" Ummm, right.

I don't remember the immediate details that followed in the conversation, but I think Abner was criticizing one of the candidates when Frank replied, "At least he's not from Texas!" He chortled at his joke.

A short pause ensued. Then Abner asked, "Where was Jimmy Carter from?"

"Georgia," Daddy replied.

"That guy - that guy was the most paTHETic president in history!"

"No," Frank replied with meaningful tones, "I don't think HE can hold that title anymore."

Silence once again reigned, but only for a moment. "Yep," countered Abner, "Bill Clinton deserves every bit of that title!"

It was here that I let out an audible, albeit quiet, chuckle.

I think Frank was slightly taken aback. How could his meaning have been so misconstrued? Did anyone in his right mind really believe there could be ANYONE worse than Bush, or was his friend insane? He decided to take things from a different angle.

"Well, maybe things will be different with a new attorney general."

"How so?"

"Well, if someone who's actually interested in JUSTICE gets in there, there are going to be a ton of investigations!"

I'm afraid I don't remember any more of the conversation beyond this point. It may be that some random circumstance, such as the truck that almost ran us off the road, changed the subject back to the rudeness, pride, cruelty, etc., of the nation's police officers ("They all think they're above the law!" "Mmm-hm."). Or it could be that the mention of the justice system turned the conversation to the incompetence of "that court in South Carolina" ("They're all jerks there." "I know: I've BEEN there!"). At any rate, the talk lost my interest, and I decided to learn more of the adventures of Catherine Morland instead. But not before I had had a good laugh.