Every once in a while I like to post a reminder that I write a weekly column for The Saturday Evening Post. No, not on Saturday evenings but every Friday morning. Here’s this week’s edition, where I talk about a long lost Sherlock Holmes story, James Bond’s new car, various recipes you can make with strawberries, and why we really don’t need to change baseball.
There’s also new stuff up at Professor Barnhardt’s Journal. Go! Go read! And I’m working on the February Letter, which you’ll get in early March because sometimes the end of the month sneaks up on me. Have a great weekend.
Two things I’d like to thank for helping me through my recent bout with the flu.
I’m sick. Sick of the snow and sick of the cold and sick of not being able to go somewhere if I needed to. I’m sick of the non-stop coverage of the storms on television and the sound of plows going by my street. I’m sick of all the white and actually yearn for grey sidewalks and roads.
For those keeping score at home: 31 inches in the Blizzard of 2015 a couple of weeks ago, a foot last week, and two more feet yesterday and today. Do the math yourself (no, seriously, do it yourself – I hate doing math). Another big storm this Thursday and another possible storm on Sunday. It has gone from “winter wonderland” to “depressing wasteland” in the course of just a couple of weeks. It’s hard to remember what everything looked like before 7 foot snow banks.
A drunk (I’m assuming) woman just walked by my windows and yelled “I DON’T WANT YOU! I DON’T NEED YOU! F**K YOU! GET AWAY FROM ME! I assume she was talking to her equally drunk boyfriend but I like to imagine she was speaking directly to the snow.
Also: I’m sick. Literally sick, as in coughing and body aches and a tired feeling and probably a fever too (I don’t have a thermometer), drink a lot of tea and try every medicine in the cabinet kind of sick. I never get headaches but when I cough I cough violently and the pain shoots up and slams me in the head. I’m coughing so much my throat feels like it’s lined with sandpaper. It has completely worn me out. Actually I’m so sick I don’t even want to sit at this computer and type things. Why am I writing this? Time to hit the Publish button and go lie down again under the comforter.
As longtime readers of this site probably know, I love the cold and winter. But there comes a point where even the most diehard fan of the snow reaches a breaking point. I call that point “RIGHT NOW.”
We got 31 inches last week. Today we got around a foot. That’s a record for one week around here. There’s no place to put it. I have a long staircase I have to shovel, and when I got to the end of the stairs today and encountered a drift of snow about 3 feet tall and 15 feet long – formed due to the placement of the stairs between two buildings, the wind piling up the white in a small area – I just sighed heavily. It was one of those times I wished I had the powers of Jeannie or Samantha Stevens, where I could just blink or twitch the snow away and leave a clear path to the street. I’d even take the powers of one of Samantha’s addled aunts, the ones who could never do a spell correctly. Sure, the snow probably would have been transported to Florida accidentally or maybe turned into Napoleon, but both of those things I could handle (Napoleon was short and I think I could have taken him).
More snow this Thursday.