April 3: "The First Straw," Blizzard Warning, Yellow Snow

Billy Collins doesn't break camels' backs . . . 

The First Straw

by:  Billy Collins

The camel felt nothing

as it stood outside the tent,

its nose lifted in the desert air.

It has been a camel's back-breaking kind of day.  

I woke this morning to snow.  A lot of it.  And wind.  A lot of it.  And school closings (including the university).  A lot of them.  It wasn't a surprise.  The National Weather Service had given ample warning (from Winter Storm Watch to Winter Storm Warning to Blizzard Warning), so it's not like I was standing outside my house, nose lifted in the winter air, oblivious to the oncoming apocalypse. 

But yesterday, there was yellow-to-green grass all over, and spring seemed not a distant hope but a distinct possibility.  I could smell mud.  Always a good sign.  Now I'm staring at piles of plowed snow as tall as myself, and my body is sore from six or seven rounds with my shovel.  In short, I feel as if warmth and blossoms have flown to Walt Disney World for an extended vacation, and I'm left behind to clean things up.

That in itself feels like a last-straw moment, not a first-straw.

Spent the day working from home, answering emails, writing scripts, scheduling and rescheduling events.  All that in between taking my puppy out to bark at snow blowers and sniff around for those places where she's pissed.  (Don't eat yellow snow.)

It is almost 7 p.m. now.  The snow is still snowing, wind is still winding, and the National Weather Service has amended its predictions, calling for another nine inches of white by 8 a.m. tomorrow morning.  (I'm a little exhausted and am tempted to stand outside and go all ape-shit at the next plow that blasts by my driveway.)

Saint Marty's well of wisdom is dry tonight.  Snow in April just plain S-U-C-K-S.

April 14: Easter Snow, in the Balance, "Web" Dip

I woke this morning to an Easter snowstorm.  Yes, the streets were clogged with white, and the winds were strong enough to shake cars.  Of course, my children got another day off from school, which made them ecstatic.  I, on the other hand, drove through the storm to get to work.  And I have been working ever since.

Very shortly, I will be heading out to teach my film class.  No, the university did not cancel classes.  There are no guarantees how many students will be present today, but I will teach whatever number that does show up.  I actually didn't expect the college to shut down.  The weather was simply not horrible enough.  Lots of thick, fat flakes and gale-force winds, but that's why we Yoopers own boots and snow blowers and Stormy Kromers.

Besides the snow, the other matter that has been occupying my day is teaching.  The English Department Head has offered me classes for the fall semester.  Really good classes.  However, I can't accept the offer until I speak with my new boss; she has to approve my hours.  My new boss hasn't answered the e-mail I sent this morning.  So, here I sit in my office at the university, my future hanging in the balance.  I hate being in this limbo.

My question for the good book of Wilbur this afternoon:

Will my new boss allow me to accept the classes that have been offered to me for the fall semester?

And my finger stops on:

Miles away, at the Arables' house, the men sat around the kitchen table eating a dish of canned peaches and talking over the events of the day.  Upstairs, Avery was already in bed and asleep.  Mr.s Arable was tucking Fern into bed.

"Did you have a good time at the Fair?" she asked as she kissed her daughter.

Fern nodded.  "I had the best time I have ever had anywhere or any time in all of my whole life."

Well, I would have been happy with a simple "yes" from E. B. White.


However, it looks like Saint Marty's going to have the best time he ever had anywhere or any time in all his whole life.

Ain't this the truth?