Horse Manure Park

I usually don't complain much about the winter weather in these parts.  After all, it isn't called the Great White North because it is covered in powdered sugar. Snow is measured by the foot and it's often stupid cold.  It comes with the territory, literally and figuratively. But this winter seems to be stupider than most. A couple weeks ago, we endured a cold snap unlike any we've experienced in the past 30 years.  And we are about to plummet into the freezer again.  The mercury is starting to fall even as I write this, and by tonight it will be -23ºF. Monday will be worse, with a "high" of -13ºF.   Monday night's low will be -29ºF.  The record is -34ºF, set in 1976.  Honestly, when it gets this cold, I'm all for setting a new record.  Let's go for it! If this wasn't bad enough, these stupid cold temps will be accompanied with sustained 13 MPH winds, gusting to over 25 MPH.  A quick glance at the wind chill index (a chart that any pr

If you watch the steer get slaughtered, that  filet mignon  might not taste as good. First impressions are powerful things. One of the interesting exercises in writing (and debate) is to look at the other side of an argument.  It can be a humbling experience. In order to see the other side, you must acknowledge that your side is not necessarily correct; you simply have an opinion.  That's usually enough to scare most people off. This brings me to the interesting "controversy" over Richard Sherman, cornerback for the Seattle Seahawks. And before you stop reading because this is "football talk," please understand that it is not. This is more to do with first impressions, fledgling opinions, and having the courage to admit that you just might be wrong. You see, most of the world, including myself, had an initial 20-second impression of Richard Sherman immediately after the biggest play in the biggest game of his life. Seconds after the game, h

His friends and family knew him as a hard-working man; honest to a fault with a quick wit and a great sense of humor. His was intelligent: an avid reader of World Book Encyclopedias, "how-to" books and novels.  A prolific writer.  Always doodling with some sort of brain-teaser or mathematical problem. He served his country with distinction as a decorated veteran in World War II. He loved music, although he couldn't play an instrument.  He rarely sang, but he always knew the words. He enjoyed a cold beer and good conversation.  No one ever remembers him turning down an Old Milwaukee. He was a grandfather at the age of 53. Then at the age of 54, he had the shock of his life: he became a father for the third time. He was born 99 years ago today and I wouldn't be here without him.  You see, I was this man's third child. Even though I am ten years younger than my dad was when my mom broke "the news," I can about imagine how speechless, how ut

If there is one thing I do not like, it is arrogance.  I cannot stand cocky, conceited jerks.  A little humility goes a long way in the book of That Damn Sam. And with that thought, I suddenly really, really hope the Seahawks do not win the Super Bowl, just so this moron regrets this tattoo for the rest of his life.  [This is via KOMO News in Seattle.  It is not fake or Photoshopped.] This is what it looks like when an arrogant jackass gets a tattoo.

One week ends, another begins and time keeps on slipping into the future...  There's a song in there somewhere. Saturday was a memorable day, friends. A member of our troupe was involved in a head-on collision Saturday morning.  Luckily, he walked away with just a few scrapes. You see, the dingo and the boxer were in the backyard playing some kind of doggy freeze-tag and the dingo zigged while the boxer zagged, and... well... This is what happens when a 70 pound boxer hits a metal gazebo frame while running full sprint.  The gazebo lost. The boxer let out a loud "Yipe!" and the Wife was certain he broke something.  Visions of an early morning emergency visit to the Lakeland Vet Hospital danced in her head.  What a great way to start the weekend!  However, after recovering from the initial shock of ruining my damn gazebo , the boxer appeared pretty much none the worse for wear. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for the gazebo.  It's finished.  Rea

Okay, I've put on my big boy pants. Why do I do this to myself? And I've found 1,000 reasons to hate myself.  I started this beast on January 5.  I'm the only one in the house who even has interest in it.  What started as a family activity is now "alone time." Oh well. I hope you've started the new year off right, but most likely by now everyone's resolutions are starting to fizzle. You can't find time to do _____ because your _____  always ______. You can't _____ because you're too ______.  [fill in blanks with excuses -- and if you live in my part of the country, this brutal cold snap would give you ample excuse to break any and all promises to yourself] But that's okay.  With any luck, you'll have next year to start fail all over again.  (This cynical attitude is labeled "Negativity" by the Wife.  I call it "Realism."  As you can plainly see, I'm a righteous bastard to live with... at least

It wasn't a record*, not even close.  But it was still cold. I let the hounds out last night, forcing them to do nature's business.  Not easy with cold canines.  The Springfield PreciseTemp mocked me (and the dogs) at -26°F.  The air temperature here was literally colder than AGO-5 base in Antarctica. No, I'm not making that up.  I checked.  Trust me. The windchill was a brutal -48°F.  If you've never experienced cold like that, you really should once in your lifetime.  Just because. When it is that cold at night, you truly do hear the sound of silence outside (so this is what Paul Simon was talking about!).  No cars.  No trains.  No barking dogs.  No drunken neighbors fighting over who is running to Wal-Mart for Pop Tarts.  Just the constant pop and crack of the trees as they strain and stress against the stupidcold** temperatures. It really is an eerie sound. Much to the Boy's and the Girl's delight, there was a Star Wars marathon on television t

It has been cold, folks.  Even by Minnesota standards it has been cold.  Actually, we've gone past "cold" and straight to "stupid cold."  In fact, the Wife and I deemed it too cold to boot the Boy and the Girl outside.  When the daytime high does not get above -5°F, it's just stupid cold. And there is a major problem with not getting outside to burn all that energy.  Most folks refer to it as "cabin fever." It is easy for cabin fever to infect everyone when we are all cooped up in the house, so I had the brainstormingly-fantastic New Years Day idea of doing a puzzle.  A fun, family activity.  Teamwork!  Problem solving!  Something to keep our minds occupied during these long, cold months. So I selected one of the Girl's puzzles which she got for her birthday last year.  It is a fair challenge for her, 300 pieces.  The plan was after putting this one together, we'd graduate to the big boy puzzles... like, 1,000 pieces!  Woo-hoo! We