23 December 2011
481
R. Linda:
I had a dream last night, no, not a nightmare exactly, a sort of nightmare, at least not for me, you may be. . . well yeah.
I found meself in Denver. I don't know how I got there, just know I was. And I was snowed in at that crazy-looking airport you have out there, you know, the one that looks like giant nomads pitched their tents in the foothills? Anyway, it was snowing, and I was stuck there. Being not one for socialising in airports (I mean, how many times can one commiserate with strangers over the same subject?) I found meself schlepping outside in these massive goloshes that suddenly appeared on me feet. Well, being somewhat toasty except for me nose, I walked out to a shuttle bus that took me to a car rental place. The rental place was closed! And there I was stranded. I started walking with the snow stinging me bare face, me hands shoved deep inside me wool jacket pockets, me goloshes making tracks like Big Foot had been roaming free in Denver, and suddenly, there I was, standing outside this house. It looked like your typical Colorado abode, except it had castle walls. I stood there wondering what was so familiar about it when it hit me -- I was at your house! Imagine that, or try not to. Here, take a look!
As I stood there, I could hear a voice drifting over the deepening snow, "I'd like to bottle up winter and send it to Florida," the voice said, "those castle walls are too icy to take down because it's much too icy to set up a ladder to do it."
Hum. Not the castle walls put up for Halloween? Oh, tell me, not THOSE. You are as bad as those people who leave their Christmas wreaths up past July.
"We'll have to wait for next October but I don't think the Daddy Man and neighbours will like this." The voice said to no one in particular that I could see. "Maybe we should stick a giant Santa up in the window?"
No answer either. I wondered who the voice belonged to and who it was talking to, but craned me neck I couldn't see over the snow.
"You can always build catapults and sling snow at your angry neighbours as they come to tear down your castle walls," I shouted toward the voice.
"Oh yeah," the voice shouted back, "the 'villagers' have a lot of snow to work with, as you can see. It started snowing at 4 p.m. yesterday, and it's STILL snowing! How do you like them snowballs?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if the neighbours use iced snow and bring those walls down and invade the castle looking for fudge. If you don't shovel a way for me to get in there to get warm, I will get on me mobile and call me wife's relatives to come set siege. They are good at that."
I stood there thinking, I've heard that voice before; why is this all so familiar? Then I heard the grunt and sputtering of a snow blower. It failed. Another try and it roared to life and then suddenly died. Again, the grunt and sputtering and finally a turnover and again, fizzle.
"What are you doing in there?" I shouted. "What is that noise? Why aren't you shovelling? Is that what's keeping you busy?"
"Wait, just hold on. The Daddy Man has got the snow blower, and he insists on letting you over the frozen moat to the castle. He wants to get a look at ya. He's never seen an authentic Irishman before. Be a novelty for him." The voice shouted.
"Novelty?" I stood there freezing, stepping from one foot to the other, waiting and waiting and waiting. The snow blower would turn over and then fail. I heard the voice berating the old man, "It's 16 degrees; that thing won't work!"
"SHOVELS!"I shouted over the din of the snow blower.
"Talk about die-hard; the old man won't give up!" The disembodied voice floated to me over the snowflakes.
Suddenly, I heard the snow blower roaring and coming closer; it was working!
"I hope he doesn't kill himself trying to get to you!" The voice drifted my way. "I'd hate to see you stand trial for murdering an old man over snow!"
But she didn't have to worry because the thing conked out again. I heard no more of the snow blower, and just as I was about to ask what happened, I heard the sounds of shovels.
"Oh my God, now his knee is hurting," the voice shouted. "It's too late to finish this, I'll have to do it myself TOMORROW!"
"TOMORROW?" I shouted, thinking how cold I was and SHE was leaving me out there to wait for her to shovel a path into the castle TOMORROW! I'd be a frozen Big Foot for sure. Then I heard, "HO HO HO!"
"NO, WAIT!" I shouted, panicked. "Don't you have a son who isn't Hobbit size that can get out there without getting lost in a snow drift to finish the Daddy Man's adventure with machinery? Get the kid, get HIM. HE can shovel, put his butt to work!"
"Yeah, well, he's taller than me and the Daddy Man; maybe if you can see him over the snow you can both make a path to each other," the voice suggested with a dirty laugh if ever I heard one.
I could hear a shovel faintly, and me hopes were lifted until I heard, "He helped with the shovelling, but now he's frozen and going inside for a rest."
"Seriously? Get your daughters to help! I'll freeze by the time your son gets back out of the house! What's he been doing anyway, playing video games? Where are those girls?"
"The girls only move snow on the threat of death," the voice said, drifting softer than loud on the wind. "I'm not scary enough to get them to shovel."
"Tell Ricci I will take her picture off me blog if she doesn't get out here and help and tell Tats I'll diss her on me blog or something equally dumb."
"Yeah, like that'll work," the voice laughed.
"Well, what about you? Can't you find a miniature Hobbit-size shovel and . . . "
"I am afraid of falling in the snow and disappearing until the spring thaw; it's that deep over here!" The voice countered. "AND Hobbit size? Harrumph! I haven't measured my height in a few years. I hear a person gets shorter with age. All I can say to that is OH SHIT! I can't afford to lose any more inches. When I buy pants, the legs are always 6 inches plus long. I buy petite, which is just a cute way of saying SHORT. I prefer fun-sized or vertically challenged!"
"AND I NEED TO KNOW THIS WHY?" I shouted over a blast of wind and snow.
"Well, if you must know, I don't want to fall because it would give the kids too much to laugh about and a story to tell for months!"
"Oi! You're a coward you are, you are too close to the ground to fall. Come on, would they know the difference?"
"My height is not the problem. It's the clothing companies that are the problem."
"And this is important, why?" I asked, getting desperately confused.
"Because all I wear is baggies, you know, those shorts that come to the knee . . . well, in my case, to mid-calf. And shoes! Oh, forget about shoes. I take kid-size shoes!"
I knew what shoes she meant, those strangely coloured orange crocs. I could see it now; her upturned over in the snow. The only way to find her would be to start digging where the orange crocs were sticking out of the snow.
"WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP TALKING AT ME AND SHOVEL?" I shouted in frustration. "JUST START. IF YOU DISAPPEAR, THEY'LL BE RIGHT ON IT."
"No, I can't do that. My hands are frozen; you wait there. I'll be back after a FUDGE break . . . or not." The last said in a whisper, but the wind carried it to me hearing.
And then there was silence except for the sound of a door slowly creaking closed and then a slam. The castle was shut for the night! What to do? I stood there hopping from one leg to the other to keep warm, blowing on me glove-less hands and feeling the ice dripping from me eyebrows and nose. I would not look like Big Foot for very much longer, I was turning into the Abominable Snowman pretty quickly.
THE NEXT MORNING
I was like one of Queen Jadis's stone statues in Narnia -- frozen solid outside the castle walls. I hadn't even made it into the courtyard. It was with difficulty my hearing started to unfreeze and I heard a voice as if it were a million castles away.
"First of all, I'm NOT THAT SHORT! Hold your arm at the 5-foot mark, and that's my height! And, yes, I think they'd notice I was missing in a snow drift, but only when there's no dinner made, and I haven't officially called a fend-for-yourselves night!"
If I could have wrinkled me brow, I would have, but it was frozen solid. Who, I want to know, picks up a conversation where it was left off the night before, the next day? Well, we know who. I was stunned I was, and there she was, somewhere behind the 6-foot snowbanks, talking me ear off like we had been talking just a minute ago!
The roads were not bad, and since I was standing somewhere where the curb was, I must have been used as a curb marker by the snow plows because I was encased in frozen, salted, dirty snow. I knew by forcing me frozen eyeballs to look downward that I looked, for all intents and purposes, like a snowman some kids rolled together. Even me nose looked like an orangey-red carrot with icicles. Me hat was frozen to me head, but that was the only article of clothing one could distinguish. The rest of me was frozen in place, and as the snow fell the evening before, it started to build up so that me lower half extended into a giant round ball and me torso into a smaller round ball, and there you had it -- Irish SNOWMAN!
As I stood there. I mean, really, where could I go? I was immobile as the mail truck pulled up, and the postman looked to see if he could find the mailbox, which I must have been standing next to and didn't know it, so being not successful, he shrugged and put the mail in me frozen digits that stuck out of one side of me upper snowman self looking like sticks. Nice huh? Then he drove away. I was like, DUDE ME, EYES MOVE, CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?
About four hours later, I heard that infernal snow blower. This time, it started right up, and if I moved me eyes to the left, I could see snow blasting up in the air and guess where it landed when it got close to where I was frozen in place? Yup. Not only could you not see the mail, but the snow was now up to me nose. If the daddy man (who was working to clear the driveway like some kind of demon) kept up, yours truly would totally disappear. But just as he started to turn back for another path to the house, he must have seen me blue eyes, and this got his attention.
"Rolonda, mira este."
And down the path, all I could see out of me snow-blurry eyes were the small orange Crocs making their way to where I was frozen nearly to death. They stopped next to me and I could see their shoes, her Crocs, and his boots, and I thought they might be looking me over.
"Uh oh," the wearer of orange crocs muttered.
I could hear chewing, and I could smell FUDGE. Yes, she was eating FUDGE in front of me, well, sort of in front of me. At least I couldn't see that far up; me eyes were frozen in a downward position and wouldn't move.
"What are we to do?" The Daddy Man said in awe of the situation.
"Leave it to me. I'll get the hose."
HOSE? I wanted to shout, are you crazy? That cold water will turn me into a human ice cube. I mean, I was already there, but did we have to complete the look? I couldn't utter a word. I did make sounds that made the pair of boots jump back as if the snowman he was looking at was possessed.
"El loco Irish Gringo," he chuckled, and I think he waved a hand at me and went back up the driveway with the snow blower.
I will spare you the cold, chilly suffering of that icy water and the melting, dirty, salty snow from the road as it ran down me underwear. Yes, it was a horrific, horrific, horrific experience. When she was done, there was an entire neighbourhood standing there watching. Talk about embarrassing! Me brain and body were so wet and frostbitten I don't much remember what happened after that. I remember being slid up the driveway by the son and two girls standing at the windows, pointing and laughing. I remember orange crocs sliding on the now icy driveway, fighting with the frozen hose and complaining about it. I remember a snow blower sitting by the garage and an SUV parked next to it with rubber ducks up the antennae. I don't remember anything but disappearing into the dark castle and someone saying, "We should put him on a spit and roast him dry." Yup, I was screaming inside me frozen brain, DON'TCHADARE! Then I woke up, and I was freezing. I looked over, and Tonya had all the bedclothes nestled around her, and there I was without even the sheet. I looked out the window and saw that it was snowing. The wind was hitting the side of the house, and I realised, thankfully, it was all a dream.
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
I had a dream last night, no, not a nightmare exactly, a sort of nightmare, at least not for me, you may be. . . well yeah.
I found meself in Denver. I don't know how I got there, just know I was. And I was snowed in at that crazy-looking airport you have out there, you know, the one that looks like giant nomads pitched their tents in the foothills? Anyway, it was snowing, and I was stuck there. Being not one for socialising in airports (I mean, how many times can one commiserate with strangers over the same subject?) I found meself schlepping outside in these massive goloshes that suddenly appeared on me feet. Well, being somewhat toasty except for me nose, I walked out to a shuttle bus that took me to a car rental place. The rental place was closed! And there I was stranded. I started walking with the snow stinging me bare face, me hands shoved deep inside me wool jacket pockets, me goloshes making tracks like Big Foot had been roaming free in Denver, and suddenly, there I was, standing outside this house. It looked like your typical Colorado abode, except it had castle walls. I stood there wondering what was so familiar about it when it hit me -- I was at your house! Imagine that, or try not to. Here, take a look!
 |
| Look familiar to YOU? |
As I stood there, I could hear a voice drifting over the deepening snow, "I'd like to bottle up winter and send it to Florida," the voice said, "those castle walls are too icy to take down because it's much too icy to set up a ladder to do it."
Hum. Not the castle walls put up for Halloween? Oh, tell me, not THOSE. You are as bad as those people who leave their Christmas wreaths up past July.
"We'll have to wait for next October but I don't think the Daddy Man and neighbours will like this." The voice said to no one in particular that I could see. "Maybe we should stick a giant Santa up in the window?"
No answer either. I wondered who the voice belonged to and who it was talking to, but craned me neck I couldn't see over the snow.
"You can always build catapults and sling snow at your angry neighbours as they come to tear down your castle walls," I shouted toward the voice.
"Oh yeah," the voice shouted back, "the 'villagers' have a lot of snow to work with, as you can see. It started snowing at 4 p.m. yesterday, and it's STILL snowing! How do you like them snowballs?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if the neighbours use iced snow and bring those walls down and invade the castle looking for fudge. If you don't shovel a way for me to get in there to get warm, I will get on me mobile and call me wife's relatives to come set siege. They are good at that."
I stood there thinking, I've heard that voice before; why is this all so familiar? Then I heard the grunt and sputtering of a snow blower. It failed. Another try and it roared to life and then suddenly died. Again, the grunt and sputtering and finally a turnover and again, fizzle.
"What are you doing in there?" I shouted. "What is that noise? Why aren't you shovelling? Is that what's keeping you busy?"
"Wait, just hold on. The Daddy Man has got the snow blower, and he insists on letting you over the frozen moat to the castle. He wants to get a look at ya. He's never seen an authentic Irishman before. Be a novelty for him." The voice shouted.
"Novelty?" I stood there freezing, stepping from one foot to the other, waiting and waiting and waiting. The snow blower would turn over and then fail. I heard the voice berating the old man, "It's 16 degrees; that thing won't work!"
"SHOVELS!"I shouted over the din of the snow blower.
"Talk about die-hard; the old man won't give up!" The disembodied voice floated to me over the snowflakes.
Suddenly, I heard the snow blower roaring and coming closer; it was working!
"I hope he doesn't kill himself trying to get to you!" The voice drifted my way. "I'd hate to see you stand trial for murdering an old man over snow!"
But she didn't have to worry because the thing conked out again. I heard no more of the snow blower, and just as I was about to ask what happened, I heard the sounds of shovels.
"Oh my God, now his knee is hurting," the voice shouted. "It's too late to finish this, I'll have to do it myself TOMORROW!"
"TOMORROW?" I shouted, thinking how cold I was and SHE was leaving me out there to wait for her to shovel a path into the castle TOMORROW! I'd be a frozen Big Foot for sure. Then I heard, "HO HO HO!"
"NO, WAIT!" I shouted, panicked. "Don't you have a son who isn't Hobbit size that can get out there without getting lost in a snow drift to finish the Daddy Man's adventure with machinery? Get the kid, get HIM. HE can shovel, put his butt to work!"
"Yeah, well, he's taller than me and the Daddy Man; maybe if you can see him over the snow you can both make a path to each other," the voice suggested with a dirty laugh if ever I heard one.
I could hear a shovel faintly, and me hopes were lifted until I heard, "He helped with the shovelling, but now he's frozen and going inside for a rest."
"Seriously? Get your daughters to help! I'll freeze by the time your son gets back out of the house! What's he been doing anyway, playing video games? Where are those girls?"
"The girls only move snow on the threat of death," the voice said, drifting softer than loud on the wind. "I'm not scary enough to get them to shovel."
"Tell Ricci I will take her picture off me blog if she doesn't get out here and help and tell Tats I'll diss her on me blog or something equally dumb."
"Yeah, like that'll work," the voice laughed.
"Well, what about you? Can't you find a miniature Hobbit-size shovel and . . . "
"I am afraid of falling in the snow and disappearing until the spring thaw; it's that deep over here!" The voice countered. "AND Hobbit size? Harrumph! I haven't measured my height in a few years. I hear a person gets shorter with age. All I can say to that is OH SHIT! I can't afford to lose any more inches. When I buy pants, the legs are always 6 inches plus long. I buy petite, which is just a cute way of saying SHORT. I prefer fun-sized or vertically challenged!"
"AND I NEED TO KNOW THIS WHY?" I shouted over a blast of wind and snow.
"Well, if you must know, I don't want to fall because it would give the kids too much to laugh about and a story to tell for months!"
"Oi! You're a coward you are, you are too close to the ground to fall. Come on, would they know the difference?"
"My height is not the problem. It's the clothing companies that are the problem."
"And this is important, why?" I asked, getting desperately confused.
"Because all I wear is baggies, you know, those shorts that come to the knee . . . well, in my case, to mid-calf. And shoes! Oh, forget about shoes. I take kid-size shoes!"
I knew what shoes she meant, those strangely coloured orange crocs. I could see it now; her upturned over in the snow. The only way to find her would be to start digging where the orange crocs were sticking out of the snow.
"WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP TALKING AT ME AND SHOVEL?" I shouted in frustration. "JUST START. IF YOU DISAPPEAR, THEY'LL BE RIGHT ON IT."
"No, I can't do that. My hands are frozen; you wait there. I'll be back after a FUDGE break . . . or not." The last said in a whisper, but the wind carried it to me hearing.
And then there was silence except for the sound of a door slowly creaking closed and then a slam. The castle was shut for the night! What to do? I stood there hopping from one leg to the other to keep warm, blowing on me glove-less hands and feeling the ice dripping from me eyebrows and nose. I would not look like Big Foot for very much longer, I was turning into the Abominable Snowman pretty quickly.
THE NEXT MORNING
I was like one of Queen Jadis's stone statues in Narnia -- frozen solid outside the castle walls. I hadn't even made it into the courtyard. It was with difficulty my hearing started to unfreeze and I heard a voice as if it were a million castles away.
"First of all, I'm NOT THAT SHORT! Hold your arm at the 5-foot mark, and that's my height! And, yes, I think they'd notice I was missing in a snow drift, but only when there's no dinner made, and I haven't officially called a fend-for-yourselves night!"
If I could have wrinkled me brow, I would have, but it was frozen solid. Who, I want to know, picks up a conversation where it was left off the night before, the next day? Well, we know who. I was stunned I was, and there she was, somewhere behind the 6-foot snowbanks, talking me ear off like we had been talking just a minute ago!
The roads were not bad, and since I was standing somewhere where the curb was, I must have been used as a curb marker by the snow plows because I was encased in frozen, salted, dirty snow. I knew by forcing me frozen eyeballs to look downward that I looked, for all intents and purposes, like a snowman some kids rolled together. Even me nose looked like an orangey-red carrot with icicles. Me hat was frozen to me head, but that was the only article of clothing one could distinguish. The rest of me was frozen in place, and as the snow fell the evening before, it started to build up so that me lower half extended into a giant round ball and me torso into a smaller round ball, and there you had it -- Irish SNOWMAN!
As I stood there. I mean, really, where could I go? I was immobile as the mail truck pulled up, and the postman looked to see if he could find the mailbox, which I must have been standing next to and didn't know it, so being not successful, he shrugged and put the mail in me frozen digits that stuck out of one side of me upper snowman self looking like sticks. Nice huh? Then he drove away. I was like, DUDE ME, EYES MOVE, CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?
About four hours later, I heard that infernal snow blower. This time, it started right up, and if I moved me eyes to the left, I could see snow blasting up in the air and guess where it landed when it got close to where I was frozen in place? Yup. Not only could you not see the mail, but the snow was now up to me nose. If the daddy man (who was working to clear the driveway like some kind of demon) kept up, yours truly would totally disappear. But just as he started to turn back for another path to the house, he must have seen me blue eyes, and this got his attention.
"Rolonda, mira este."
And down the path, all I could see out of me snow-blurry eyes were the small orange Crocs making their way to where I was frozen nearly to death. They stopped next to me and I could see their shoes, her Crocs, and his boots, and I thought they might be looking me over.
"Uh oh," the wearer of orange crocs muttered.
I could hear chewing, and I could smell FUDGE. Yes, she was eating FUDGE in front of me, well, sort of in front of me. At least I couldn't see that far up; me eyes were frozen in a downward position and wouldn't move.
"What are we to do?" The Daddy Man said in awe of the situation.
"Leave it to me. I'll get the hose."
HOSE? I wanted to shout, are you crazy? That cold water will turn me into a human ice cube. I mean, I was already there, but did we have to complete the look? I couldn't utter a word. I did make sounds that made the pair of boots jump back as if the snowman he was looking at was possessed.
"El loco Irish Gringo," he chuckled, and I think he waved a hand at me and went back up the driveway with the snow blower.
I will spare you the cold, chilly suffering of that icy water and the melting, dirty, salty snow from the road as it ran down me underwear. Yes, it was a horrific, horrific, horrific experience. When she was done, there was an entire neighbourhood standing there watching. Talk about embarrassing! Me brain and body were so wet and frostbitten I don't much remember what happened after that. I remember being slid up the driveway by the son and two girls standing at the windows, pointing and laughing. I remember orange crocs sliding on the now icy driveway, fighting with the frozen hose and complaining about it. I remember a snow blower sitting by the garage and an SUV parked next to it with rubber ducks up the antennae. I don't remember anything but disappearing into the dark castle and someone saying, "We should put him on a spit and roast him dry." Yup, I was screaming inside me frozen brain, DON'TCHADARE! Then I woke up, and I was freezing. I looked over, and Tonya had all the bedclothes nestled around her, and there I was without even the sheet. I looked out the window and saw that it was snowing. The wind was hitting the side of the house, and I realised, thankfully, it was all a dream.
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
