Monday was St. Penguin’s Day. It came unexpectedly, as it always does. Two days before we had toasted each other with “Happy First Day of Spring!” When you live in the Midwest, where winter lasts about six months, and you get tired of wearing a scarf around your face, and even more tired of cooking up “frozen mixed vegetables,” a dish which greatly resembles fishfood, spring is perhaps more joyous than Christmas.
But we had forgotten about the penguins. Oh, the penguins.
“We got a foot of snow!” we said, peering out the kitchen window Monday morning. It started coming down Sunday night, and it didn’t stop until morning. School was cancelled, the construction guys didn’t show up to continue work on our basement. The snow arrived–heavy snow–twelve inches, and it stuck. It hasn’t melted away like it is “supposed to” this time of year. So now there is more snow on the ground than we have had any other time this winter. And it’s supposed to be spring! Happy St. Penguin’s Day!
(By the way, I just made up St. Penguin’s Day, but I’m going to keep it. Neologism, it’s called, when you invent a new word. And I’m at it again. My first, “melbonic relationship: for the moments when you look across the table at someone who’s talking, perhaps over a cup of coffee, and you are smiling, but you think I am never going to understand this person. It’s going to be a ‘melbonic’ relationship.” And my latest invention: “St. Penguin’s Day: a day in early spring when you get an unexpected dumping of snow.”
(Well, after all, why not blame the penguins? They are cute, so they can absorb a bit of loathing. Also, it’s late March, so Antarctica is approaching winter. They’ve extra snow on the way and they’ve got to put it somewhere.)
By the way, I made a terrible mistake, it seems. I posted that hot dog blog yesterday, not realizing that I had posted it earlier. Actually, one year earlier! The draft of it had been lost on my old laptop, and I started using my new laptop, and then discovered it on the old one in a file for “not posted things” I didn’t realilze I had posted it some time ago. My apology.
(Having a blog is weird. It’s a bit like having a dog as a pet. Fun, sure. But there are times when you look at it and you just feel guilty.)
It’s everywhere. On the car, on the deck, and even on the rug inside the house. Snow. This morning there was the first snow fall of the season. It’s incredibly white, and the cat is incredibly pissed off. He refuses to go outside. Or to be more accurate, he cries at the door asking to be let out, but then one minute later he bangs on the screen door asking to be let back back in again. Then he curls up on the bed and resumes his nap.
Cold. This is what winter is about, I understand that. I get that winter = a drop in temperatures. And two days ago I boxed up the summer clothes and unboxed the sweaters. It’s not that complicated. Except that sweaters take up a lot more space in the dresser than shorts and tank tops, so it can be a bit tricky. But sweaters also squish up. Also, some of the sweaters are kind of old and I don’t actually like them any more; which gives me permission to treat them kind of badly. I can handle it. The transition. But still, the wind this afternoon comes as a shock. Does there have to be WIND? ALso??? Isn’t it enough to have the first SNOW?? The windchill is -15 degrees, and it never occurred to me that I’d need to take out the down coat already.
The weather doesn’t work like a committee, which is to say, it does what it wants, when it wants, and there is no discussion. There is no consensus. And I suppose that’s okay–I think consensus is overated. (But that could be because I don’t live in Russia where consensus is forbidden, or at least highly unlikely.)