I've Started Playing My Guitar Again

And like any child of the eighties, I draw every bit of my inspiration from the insanely technical sweep picking of Joe Stump. I must say, it's difficult translating that inspiration into the slow and soulful guitar crooning appropriate to someone of my age, a person so mired in the grinding ennui of mid-life, so broken by the decades that he has lost the capacity to form even the simplest fantasy beyond the vague visualization of being the one roadie charged with sanitizing John Mayer's microphone every night. It doesn't matter what my inspiration is or how I employ it, though, because me learning to play sweep arpeggios is about as likely as me learning to speak or otherwise utter lyrics like, "I survive on the breath you are finished with." Both are equally impossible, so I guess I am wasting my time.

Snow Sucks!

I took these pictures Wednesday afternoon after we got slammed with 20" of snow in five hours. I think you can see from our faces what a terrible, exhausting drag this storm has been. We're all completely miserable and want the snow to end!

There is no such thing as "playing in snow." It is an utterly useless substance which is always either too powdery or too wet to mold into any structure containing any functional or aesthetic value, no matter what implements you use to form it, as you can see.

People think it's funny to pick up kids and throw them into the snow. It is not! They think it is fun for the kid, too. I think the look on my terrified son's face shows that it absolutely is not!

Traversing through unbroken snow is exhausting and dangerous.

Sometimes you fall.

Snow buries vehicles and makes roads impassible.

This face is saying, "Get me out of this inhospitable, white muck!"

There is absolutely no way to keep that freezing muck from packing into your pant legs.

Even if you're riding in a laundry basket!

The utter dreadfulness of a big snow makes some people crack, sending them into self-destructive seizures . . .

. . . freezing their faces!

I Got Mine Out!

It wasn't that hard once the sun came out and the snow became more packable. Apparently my good neighbors all have the sense not to bother, knowing they wouldn't be fired for calling in just one more day. We did get almost two feet of snow, after all!

My New Year's Resolution

I don't have one. And if I did have one, I'd keep it to myself, at least until I was certain my non-challenging and utterly achievable goal would in fact be achieved. Like last year: I didn't start blowing my horn about reading Proust until I was three-quarters through it with five months left in the year. It was a done deal! But no, I'm not going to annoy my valued friends by blathering on about all my absurd self-improvement fiascoes. Say for instance I had agreed to run the Hottest Half with my sister this August 14th, in Dallas, at 7:30 in the morning. I would not announce it here! For one thing, I would never run this half marathon or any other half marathon because only a madman would want to run a half marathon. Only a madman would run a 10k or a 5k, or a 1000m or a 500m, or a 100m dash. Only a madman would run at all. Only a madman would quicken his step as he leaves Walmart to allow a car to pass sooner. Why would anyone do such a thing? Secondly, Dallas in August is too hot to do anything but sit on a couch with a fan and a cold beer. Only a madman would actually want to exercise in Dallas in August. So no! I will not be running no Hottest Half with my sister in Dallas in August, because only a madman would do such a thing!

I'm a Rotten Parent!

Why? Because it is parental malpractice to allow a child who has had a cold for a week and who is taking antibiotics for one of his very rare ear infections to play outside when it is only eight degrees and windy (That is eight of our capitalist Fahrenheit degrees, Martijn, not those Bolshi Celsius degrees that you and every one else uses!) Of course, it is also parental malpractice to lock your kid up for three days in a second-storey apartment while he stares out the window longingly at half a foot (about 12 centimeters, for you socialistas) of perfect, crystalline snow. So I can't win, can I? Well, if I'm going to fail as a parent, I'm going to fail by letting my boy play outside when he probably shouldn't. It's a tough job, this parenting!

The Roads are Gross!

So I have decided to emancipate my inner sluggard by calling in today. I'm thinking of it like this: The three of us are having a winter escape to Aspen except without the skiing, and on a much smaller budget. I like Aspen! It's close to WalMart and the Tyson parking lot is mostly empty after hours so my boy can play in his kayak.

This is how I was rewarded for my dedication last year when I tried to make it to work on crappy roads.

I Got Both Cars Scraped!

I'm the only one. This chick across the way came out and hacked at hers few times but never even got a door open. She lacked commitment to the task. That, and she probably thinks layering has to do with baking cakes, not keeping warm. My buddy next door came out with his slacks and slip-on dress shoes. He got as far as unlocking his car and I helped him tug on the top of the door for a few seconds. To him, that constituted a good-faith effort to try to get to the furniture store where he works. Think of the sales he will miss by calling in today! But me, I stayed outside until the job was done. Four inches of something like frozen apple sauce fell in the time it took to clean just one car for a total of about twice that. Now I can sit back and enjoy the two days of vacation I took because only a lunatic would attempt to drive anywhere today. Only a lunatic would even bother to scrape his car!