Sometimes in Winter (FF)

FF- Friday Fictioneers

Copyright - Rochelle Wisoff Shields  

I own a very small piece of property somewhere in a place you've probably never heard of. Despite its size, it is large enough for me to keep and care for several horses.

There's Ramrod, the former race horse who’s won fewer races than Hillary Clinton, Thunder Clap who loves mayonnaise on his hay, and Jokester, the one who manages to fart whenever you get behind him. 

Despite all this, I love riding each one of them, especially in the frequently falling snow.

But we can't go very far.  You see, I live in a snow globe which rests on the shelf of a little boy in Cleveland.

That's what I get for making fun of Harry Potter's scar.

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Y'know, a snow globe is not a bad place to live after all.  To visit your nearest neighbor you have to travel to infinity, the schools aren't great or even existent, and you can't get a good corned beef sandwich anywhere. But at least there's a half dozen Starbucks.

Sure, I  wish some of the other Friday Fictioneers would come visit but they're busy writing posts based on the picture prompt above, which you can access by clicking here.

Hey, don't shake me!  Ramrod and I get nauseous.

The Storm That Was What It Was

 After a full day and a half of experiencing Nature’s wintry frenzy, what some people had been touting as the Storm of the Century is now ended.  Much of the East Coast is covered in thick billowing blankets of snow, and as I look out my window I’m seeing almost as much white as when I looked over the recently announced Academy Award nominations.

But despite the stranded motorists, cities brought to a standstill, and the 24/7 news coverage, was this really the Storm of the Century?  Who determines whether it was the Storm of the Century or just the Storm of the Fiscal Quarter?  Is it a panel of highly qualified meteorologists or just some over eager intern with a barometer and a love of hyperbole?

Clearly it was premature to call anything falling from the sky here in year 2016 the Storm of the Century. We’ve got 84 years to disprove the assertion! In a couple dozen years we might be having storms that make this one look like little more than a malfunction in your frost free freezer.  Perhaps we’ll be having regular Sharknados by then.

You won’t even be able to sled in them!

I also understand that people names are now bestowed upon snowstorms just like they are on hurricanes, and this past storm was named Jonas. But does anyone go to the trouble to coordinate the personal name of a snowstorm with its title? Otherwise we may well wind up with a Storm of the Century named Floyd or a poopy little snow squall called Angelique.

“OMG, look!  Here comes the Storm of the …. oh, it’s just Herbert. Chill, everyone.”

Before some misbegotten and misguided meteorological panel bungles the title of the next highly touted storm, here’s a few better suggestions for the one just past:

·        The Storm of the Century Thus Far

·        The Storm of January 1, 2000 to January 23, 2016 and Counting

·        The Storm That Was What It Was

·        Jonas’ Big Adventure

Well, it’s time to go shovel now.  Look at those mounds of snow every bit as massive as Chris Christie’s old body! And it’s so cold out here, almost as frigid as Martha Stewart caught off guard.  

I can’t even see my car, it’s totally buried. By the time I dig it out it will be time to trade it in. Oh, my back!  My front!  My in–between!

I have to take a break. It’s too tough out there.

Why, this has got to be the Storm of the Century!

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A Plethora of Potholes

The snow is finally subsiding in the east and the winter of our discontent is coming to a close. As blankets of white recede across this blizzard besieged section of the country, grass, trees, and bushes are at long last re-emerging from once frozen tundra.

Along with potholes.  

Lotsa potholes.

Potholes the size of a coke fiend's nostrils.  Potholes bigger than Ted Nugent's mouth. 
Potholes that make even a trip around the block a potential Journey to the Center of the Earth! 

Why are there so many potholes at the end of a long hard winter?  It probably has something to do with snow seeping into the asphalt, freezing, then cracking the road surface as if it were a lobster dinner.  But I believe there is another reason. 

It is Nature's way of saying it's not done fucking with us.

"Look out!" screams every passenger in every motor vehicle everywhere from Maine to Maryland.  "Veer right! Veer left!  OMG, up ahead! It's the Godzilla of Potholes!"

Neighborhood roadways have now become minefields.  The potholes are so plentiful that trying to get from Point A to Point B is like traversing a giant Connect-a-Dots.  New potholes seem to form every day, many of them tucked away just so that they're impossible to spot until ...

THUMMMPPP!

you're in 'em!

Front end alignment?  It's now your rear end alignment.  Nice new set of tires?  Well, one out of four ain't bad.  Your GPS will pull you through?  Funny, I've never heard an electronic device use that many four letter words that rapidly without exploding!

I hate to say it, but it's getting so you can't even text and drive anymore!

Look out!" screams every passenger in every motor vehicle everywhere from Maine to Maryland from now until about mid-summer, when all the potholes are finally fixed.

There's only one conceivable good thing about our plethora of potholes. 

Maybe it can teach us something.

Maybe all that snow and ice wasn't so bad after all.

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Snow Day

I Love Snow

Last night we had a heavy snow in Philadelphia.  Not exactly a blizzard, but a swirling, twirling profusion of soft wintry white covering and transforming everything familiar and mundane into a snug pristine blanket of snow up to a foot or more deep.

I love the snow.  

snow ... snow ... snow ... SNOW... SNOW!

Memories of wonderful times past ...

A 1950's style blizzard, must be two feet if it's an inch ... school closings on the radio ... All Lower Merion schools closed for at least for two days .... Hurray!!! ....Cream of Wheat for breakfast, then bundled up like the kid in A Christmas Story and out for sledding ...  watch out for that tree! ... now that's what I call a fort; got you! ... "in the meadow we can build a snowman, and pretend that he is Rabbi Brownstein"...  tired but exhilarated ... ruddy faced too ... how about some hot cocoa?... and butter cookies right out of the oven! ...   Gee, I love the snow!

Thirty some years later ... this is what we call "snow," Brian and Brandon! ... "Wow, Daddy!"  ... and all over again.

snow ... snow ... snow ... SNOW... SNOW!

This morning I had to shovel myself  out from under a snug pristine blanket of snow up to a foot or more deep. 

I hate the fucking snow.

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