January 27: World is Closed, Wind Chills, "Web" Dip

My entire world closed today.  Every school.  The university where I teach.  My daughter's dance classes.  My son's religious education class.  My Monday night poetry workshop.  With wind chills approaching 40 below zero, nobody wanted to step outside, let alone wait at a bus stop or walk across a college campus.

I actually got to spend most of the day with my wife and children.  I watched a couple episodes of The Big Bang Theory.  Even took a nap.  I have reached the age where one of the greatest pleasures in my life is 40 or 50 winks in the middle of the day.  I'm not sure if that officially makes me old.

The weather isn't going to be much better tomorrow, either.  My kids' school has already canceled again.  So has every other school in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  When I drove home this evening, the temperature gauge on my car read -15 degrees.  I also heard the alarm going off at the fire station.  That means there's a house burning somewhere in town.  Not a good situation.  I once saw a house that caught fire on a night like this.  In the morning, the entire structure was encased in ice.

Of course, the university hasn't called off classes for tomorrow.  Yet.  I'm skeptical that I will get another day of leisure.  At best, the school will postpone opening until ten or eleven o'clock in the morning.  I teach at 4 p.m.  I will be in the classroom tomorrow.

But let's leave it up to Charlotte:

Will the university cancel classes again tomorrow?

And the answer from the Zuckerman barn is:

"Hurray!" cried everybody.

"Thank you very much," said Charlotte...

Well, Wilbur and friends seem to think that I will be getting another day of vacation.


Of course, Saint Marty doesn't really trust the opinions of animals who live and sleep in manure.

As Dean Martin says, "Baby, it's cold outside."

May 5: "Toddlers and Tiaras," Medals, Pizza

I got to the dance competition site around 7 a.m., giving me the opportunity to observe mothers bringing their young children in for the day.  It was like watching a live episode of Toddlers and Tiaras.  I saw one mother ordering her eight-year-old daughter to bend, flip, and leap all over the lobby.  The kid, dressed in a two-piece, midriff-baring, sequined outfit, followed her mother's commands like a trained monkey.  It was a little disconcerting.  I'm not even sure this little girl was having fun.  From my vantage point, she looked like she was preparing for battle.

During the course of the day, I saw little dancers slip, fall, and run off the stage in tears.  I also saw dancers perform like pros.  One particular solo was to the Billy Joel song "Lullaby," and it actually made me cry.  The only other dancer who was able to move me like that was my daughter, who was stunning.

My daughter danced twice today.  For her solo, she received a silver star.  For her group dance, she received a gold.  Of course, I think she deserved much higher on both, but then again, I may be a little biased.  I'm not exactly Tonya Harding, but a little piece of me celebrated when I saw another dancer in my daughter's categories make a mistake.  I think that's just natural.  I want my daughter to do the best that she can, and I want everybody else to fracture a kneecap.

My daughter just got back from playing with her friends.  It's 11:30 at night, and she's taking a shower.  We ordered pizza for dinner.  It was some of the best pizza I've ever tasted.  Stuffed crust from Pizza Hut.  I was a little famished.

We don't have to get up early tomoorw.  My daughter doesn't perform until the afternoon.

For the first time in about a year, Saint Marty isn't setting an alarm for Sunday morning.

Silver and gold, baby