Candles and Debris

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In the wake of the disastrous seventy-two hour snow storm that hit our region, when I attempted and eventually succeeded in building snow candelabras, this is all that's left.

Tea candles...

And debris...

Slush

Today the temperature climbed to a comparatively warm 39ºF (compared to 29ºF). Which is cause for three things:

1. All the paranoid drivers are coming out of

    hiding, and getting themselves stuck in snow

    berms in the medians. Listen here amigos,

    if you drive a light weight sedan like a 

    Volkswagen or a Kia, you will not, I 

    repeat, NOT get through the twelve inch 

    berm created by the snow plows! (I don't

    blame them for doing it though; their brains

    are still slush because there is still snow,

    albeit melting snow.)

FYI: I did not take pictures of the roads because of No. 1. Doing so would be like going for a swim at a beach where shark warnings are posted.

2. Rain boots versus Sorels. Sorels are bulky,

    fuzzy inside, and cozy warm. Rain boots

    simply keep your wool socked feet dry.

    They don't stave off the cold too well. This

    is why I stopped at twelve columns, rather

    than lining the whole sidewalk as originally

    intended.

3. Wet snow, AKA slush. Once again, a lesson

    for you warm-blooded relatives basking in

    the shade of swaying palm trees. You are

    familiar with slush. It is the very same

    consistency of ice in a snow cone. At 7-

    Eleven convenience stores, the stuff is

    doused with red, blue, or purple syrup, and

    you eat it. Notice how the ice remains

    compact. This is prime snow for making

    snow men, snow balls, and snow castles.

    And these...

I made them with a commercial size dustpan (because I don't have a flat shovel) a bucket, a Nalgene bottle (not shown, but I'm drinking out of it right now), and an apple corer.

I bet you are so itchin' to know what I made!

This is what the apple corer was for. Ventilation.

This is what the Nalgene was for. A cavern.

Behold my creation, snow candelabras!

And now for a quick break from all things snow. My hunk of a husband called me in from the freezing rain for dinner.

Behold, 5-Star's creation! Cheeze melted over a slice of tomato on a bed of Sun Flower tuna (thanks to Miko for sending me some!) over a toasted English muffin.

But that's not all. He also made salad! With shredded mozarella and sliced black olives. (Mayet doesn't like olives. FYI.)

And while we bask in the warmth of an aromatic kitchen, the snow candelabras light a welcoming beacon to our front door.

Slush. It's what snow sculptures are made of. And 7-Eleven slurpies.

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Powder

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It's been snowing for the last two and a half days. Georgia, our loyal sentry has witnessed every flake come fluttering-  at some point earlier in the week however, pelting-  down from heaven.

And for the first time in three years my Sorels came out of storage.

In a region where snow seldomly comes around, this storm was cause for two things:

1. A ghost town. Because everyone panics.
    Because a good number of drivers' brains
    turn to slush at the sight of this pristine white
    thing.  The evidence: desserted highways and
    sparsely filled parking lots. 

2. One's inner child comes out to play. However,
    unless one has a state of the art sled to race
    down a hill, this particular type of snow ain't
    much use for anything else. See, the
    temperature today didn't get over 29ºF, which
    means the snow was so cold, it was "dry",
    commonly referred to as "powder". 

    Here's a quick lesson for you relatives in the
    warmer climates of God's green earth, dry
    snow does not stick. It's like trying to form
    dough with flour alone; you can't. If you can't
    make pan de sal with flour alone, then we
    north hemispherians cannot make snow men,
    snow balls, or snow castles with powder.

    The evidence: bucket-formed columns of snow
    that crumble at the slightest touch. 

The inner child in me eventually had a tantrum. So she went inside where the disgruntled adult takes over, and pours her grievances onto the Internet for you to witness.

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Christmas Everyday

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For normal households, Christmas is once a year. At my house, it's Christmas everyday.

These whimsical Nativity statuettes hail from Peru. Can you tell? My girlfriend Alfonsina brought them back for me at the beginning of summer.

It doesn't matter that the man of the house suggests that this is only for Christmas-time, they're staying. So I might as well set them up correctly. Mary ought to be next to her man, the two caballeros together.

Okay, so they weren't cowboys. How do you say shepherd in Spanish?

¡Feliz Navidad!

Cada dia.


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Decorating Vegas Style

Not everyone can do Vegas. You have to be one of three mindsets.

1. I'm here to lose money, period.
2. I'm here to indulge my appetite and entertainment.
3. I'm here to relax.

Okay, four mindets.

4. I'm here to get decorating ideas.

Once upon a time you actually had to use coins to play the slots. Now, you use "credits". I guess patrons started complaining about the weight of silver, or the black muck on their fingers. But I sure miss the jangle of coins when one hits a triple bar.

Remember now, for those of you who are "lightweights" in the alcohol department, these are for the serious patrons. You have to be totally inebriated to need one of these, especially when you're on your seventh beverage from the waitress who passes them out for free while you're pulling the slot handles. Or, in current practice, pressing the "Bet" button.

It's amazing how all-inclusive the hotel-casinos have become. One can do everything there is to do in Vegas under one roof. Dancing, eating, lounging, swimming, sunbathing, people watching, what the heck is she wearing?...

And at the end of the day the bed is so luxurious...

If you're lucky on a "promo" deal, you might get a decent view from your room...

The bathrooms are fully stocked, and you can get a fresh towel after using it only once!

And if you're there to party it up hard, there's always the cup holder in the restrooms to hold your drink. For those of you heavyweights, it might help if you brought your BFF to hold your hair away from your face... Whatever. As the saying goes, What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Which is a whole other story to post.

I don't think I'll put one of those cup holders in my powder bath though.

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In My Little Town

I live and work in a little town founded by the logging boom of the late 1800's. There are remnants of that era still standing proud.

My little town is better known in our county as the city of retirement. But slowly and surely, new folks must move in to be the next retirees.

My little town bustles with activities for all ages.

Pétanque, the pastime favorite of long-timers.

In my little town we have dogs of all breeds, ages, and social status. That pit bull defies the doggie social stereotype.

In my little town there is no lack for choices for dining out. We have yogurt with umpteen million toppings.

And if you feel a little sophisticated, a little debonair, if you feel like visiting Europe for dinner, we have this rustic, quaint Italian osteria, complete with a cook and host who have the wickedest French accents. Go figure.

In my little town, we have Starbucks and the Walnut Café.

Where you are always greeted with a smile by the barista who calls you by your first name and knows your beverage like a programmed Miele coffee machine remembers your cappuccino settings.

But wait, that's not all.

In my little town we have little shops that sell a shoe for every mood. This is for when I feel like kicking some booties!

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Tiffany

It was a good day because of two things.

1. I ran into a piece of Truk while shopping at a garage sale. It was the third sale of the morning. I heard the unmistakeable language, and had to interject. (For those of you who don't speak Trukese, I apologize. Find a translator if you're interested in knowing what went down.)

"Ami chon ia?" I asked.

"Weno," one of them answered.

"Pwan ngang," I said.

"En mei sinei emon nengin itan Chein?" she asked.

"Mei wor emon pwii itan Chein ekan angang pioing..." I answered.

"Ina!" she said enthusiastically. "Chienei chon angang kongof!"

And so I was tickled that not only are we from the same island, but she knows my cousin Jane. What a small world this is. To make it even smaller, we ran into each other several more times in the next hour, shopping garage sales.

2. Tiffany. We met at a garage sale. And I took her home. I need not say more!

Well, okay, so she's not a genuine Tiffany. But she's pretty enough to grace my hutch.

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