Every now and then, the weather gods stir up life threatening conditions. I watched TV as Grasshopper No.5 in Minneapolis got blasted with “umpteen” inches of snow. It seems that Minneapolis gets the brunt of most storms. Why do people want to live there? The roof on the Metrodome collapsed from the weight of ice and snow. The other thing that collapsed in Minnesota over the weekend was Brett Favre. He may have played his last football game.
My Angel of Mercy (Grasshopper No.3) plowed out my driveway Monday morning. Ten minutes after he left, the City plows came through with the finishing touches to the street and blocked my driveway all over again.
Your Mom and I had tickets for Xavier High School’s production of Christmas Stars. Purchasing tickets was a bizarre experience followed by traveling through a blizzard to see the show. We did go. There we were, your Mom and I, bouncing down life’s path all by ourselves surrounded by lots and lots of empty seats. Actually, the brunt of the storm did not hit until 3-4 hours after the performance, so everything worked out.
I never rode “shotgun” with Grasshopper No.3 when he plows during a storm. A big retail outlet, that contracts with No.3 for a season of snow removal, expects that snow will be removed on a timely basis. When it snows for 36 hours, when do you plow? Add in blizzard conditions and you have the ingredients for a long, long, long, long weekend. I guess the consolation is that the “big pay” must soothe away some of the pain.
Sunday morning was one of the few days of the year that I didn’t get “in” my daily exercise routine. I got my exercise by snow blowing several times.
The Packers (baring a miracle) are not going to be in the NFL playoffs. They play in New England next Sunday night against the best team in football. Add in another loss. They may be mathematically eliminated at that point; then they play the New York Giants at Lambeau. The Giants are tough in December. Add another loss. The lack of a running game doomed their season. As Grasshopper No.4 would say, “there is always next year”! Ah yes, the losers lament.
Stay warm.
Love,
Dad