I feel a disturbance in the force. Oh wait, it turns out it was only the collective groans of all the Green Bay Packer fans as they watch the super bowl slip from their cheesy grasp. The Packers were playing Giants, after all.
I know you’re surprised, but I don’t follow sports. I only know what sports season it is by what cakes are on display at the bakery. Oval green and gold cakes mean football season. Round cakes, with white frosting and tarted up red trim, signifies baseball season.
What you don’t tell the sports seasons by bakery items? Well, you should. You can tell any season, not just sports season. It’s easy, bunny cookies-Easter, Gingerbread Men-Christmas. Who needs a calendar?
Now that football season is over, at least in Wisconsin, everyone can, after the appropriate mourning period, lasting for about two cases of beer, get back to discussing the most important thing in the world, the weather!
People in this state, Wisconsin, have elevated talking about the weather to an Olympic sport. There is the 10-day forecast grumble, the ‘I can’t believe there is no snow’ slump and the ever popular ‘Oh, my god it’s going to snow’ panic. There are bonus points if you hoard an entire month’s worth of bread and milk based solely on the 10-day forecast.
We’ve had a very dry winter, nary a snowflake in sight. See, even I’m not immune to talking about the weather. Snowless winters are okay by me, but not the children.
The children, in fact, had it not snowed, were determined to pool their money to rent a snow machine. I’m serious. They are so desperate for snow, that on a day with a brief bout of flurries, I caught them attempting to “sled” on the barely frozen ground.
Now we have three child-sized grooves running down the back yard. These run parallel to the grooves from the overzealous use of the slip and slide from this summer. I believe from space the grooves spell “Bite Me”, but I can’t say, honestly.
Last week, when snow did enter the forecast, all hell broke loose. You would have thought aliens were landing for all the panic it caused. No. Now that I think about it, we are probably better prepared for an attack by Martians, than we are for a snowstorm.
I mean the idiots won’t have to drive during a Martian attack, not unless, those same morons feel it necessary to go to the store to stock up on bread and milk. Sigh, I suppose they would, wouldn’t want to run out while the Martians are rampaging.
Anyway, back to the storm, it was minute-by-minute storm tracking, which is the most annoying invention ever. How can I watch my programs with that damn radar taking up half the screen?
Yet, even with SuperMegaGigantic Doppler, the storm was pretty much a dud. It snowed, yet, but not the 10 inches the weatherman predicted. Do I even need to make the joke?
There was enough snow to have to do all those annoying things associated with winter, shoveling, scraping the car off, salting. Lucky for me the kids were so excited about the snow that they offered to go out and do all those things for me. Gawd bless children who love snow, although I don’t know where they got the love from, certainly not me.
Jennifer Flaten lives where the local delicacy is fried cheese, Wisconsin. She writes about family life, its amusing or not so amusing moments. "At least it's not another article on global warming," she says. Jennifer bakes a mean banana bread and admits an unusual attraction to balloon animals and cup cakes. Busy preparing for the zombie apocalypse, she stills finds time to write "As I See It," her witty, too often true column. "My urge to write," says Jennifer, "is driven by my love of cupcakes, with sprinkles on top. Who wouldn't write for cupcakes, with sprinkles," she wonders.
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