Frenzied Daddy

This slideshow was poignant. It’s captioned “please don’t divorce us” and aimed at California. I’ll be speaking with the girls about adding to it when they wake up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got something in my eye.

* To stop the slideshow, there’s controls in the upper left of the photo area.

You may have heard that we’ve gotten a little snow. Eight inches, then a layer of ice, then another four inches. My brother called to tell me that he was walking in the snow thinking about us and Anchorage. And for an instant, he felt like he was in Anchorage- the cinnamon-sugar toast color of the snow in the streets, the muffling snow, how quiet it was, it all reminded him of that home.

So today I had to get out and experience it myself. The roads are still snowy, chains or studs are required on the highways. I saw a pretty blue camaro with no chains on it driving down Lombard. Not a car I would have chosen, but it’s his (I checked, it was a guy) camaro.

I walked from home to the bank (closed) and the post office to mail the Christmas Cards and package that should have gone out on Friday last. Some things come back quickly; the funny duck-walk you do to make sure you don’t slide all over the snow. I over took one couple in snowshoes. Snowshoes? Really? Did you have them just laying around waiting for the biggest snowfall in forty years? But the cross country skiiers passed me, gliding, quietly eliding into the distance.

When I got to beautiful (snowy) downtown St Johns, I saw kids (heh, kids; teenagers or twenty year olds) getting off the bus with their snowboards heading to Cathedral Park. Lots of good sledding there, I imagine.

I took the bus up to the big Fred Meyer ( at Interstate ) and back. As I came down our street, I came upon a guy with a shovel digging out his truck with chains. I dunno, maybe I wanted to feel big-hearted or something, but I offered to push him. He said “ok” with a thick accent and then got in the truck. His friend came out of the house and helped me push. We got at the front of the truck and put our backs and shoulders into it and started shoving it. He shouted “Velo!” and his friend said something in Spanish. I thought “Velo? like velocity? no, no, you —” and then his wheels spun and sparks flew beneath his rear wheels. No va.

Uh, no. No velo. Please? “Rock it.” I mimed rocking it back and forth. We got into a rhythm, rocking it back and forth. That is, we pushers rocked it back and forth, the driver stood on the pedal. Finally he got it far enough back that it caught on the snow. He pulled it out and then went forward into the snowbank again.

In for a penny, in for a pound, I helped him rock it out again. He, of course, stood on the gas pedal until sparks flew out from the back of his truck. Then “twang!” and something snapped. I went back and found a broken strap laying in the road and brought it up to him. “Chains are broken.”

“But they’re ok, right?”

“Uh, no, broken. And coming off the wheel.”

“But they’re ok. Ok, push.”

We finally got it out, the chains sliding sideways off the tire, and he drove up the road a little. He was out of the snowbank and on the road (still on snow). I gave up and picked up my groceries (about eight bags full, including a gallon of milk) and walked the other direction. I was home soon.

And worn out. Man, Definitely tired.

I was reading a message board and came across a suggestion that I may have to implement next Christmas. This one woman puts random numbers onto presents to thwart present shakers and counters. There’s no Christmas tradition I hate more than counting presents.

I don’t really know why. It mildly annoyed me when I first met the Divine Ms B and we traveled to her family’s house for the traditional yule, and her sisters participated in this ritual. They had a blackboard with their names and tally marks for the numbers under the tree. Well, no, but we worked hard to make sure they had the same number of presents and close to the same amount spent. As they’ve gotten older we’ve had to worry less about this, thankfully.

However, I caught the DQ making stacks yesterday. Yes, the DQ that reads this blog; she’s sure to read this too. I don’t even know the numbers, but it looked like “Five for the TT, four for the DQ.” I think she’s just having fun, but I hate feeling like one of the girls going to feel like we love her less because she has fewer presents. Maybe I’ll open a pack of dominoes and wrap each one separately. Hmm; I’ll have to buy some dominoes…

It’s snowing; it’s really really snowing. And for all you worriers out there, we’re sitting at home around the space heater, toasting marshmallows and making smores.

Had fun playing in the yard. Not so much driving on it, in fact we aren’t driving on it. Maybe Monday I’ll make it to the post office to mail these XMas Cards.

It was snowing this morning as I took the DQ to school. I had k103 running so I could turn around as soon as pps decided to close the schools, but they never did.

As we went up Columbia, it got snowier and snowier. It was falling from the sky like Oobleck. Everything was ok, though; we took it slow and easy. In fact, I had the DQ call the friend we pick up just to let her know we were running late.

As we turned off Columbia onto 33rd, I realized that the snow was a little worse on the road here, and that it was actually a bridge, something I was trying to avoid. I must have turned the wheel a little too sharply or something because suddenly the car was at a 30 degree angle to the direction of traffic, then 45, then 60. I frantically spun the wheel into the direction we wanted to go (turn into the skid) and the car went back to a “normal” orientation, only to continue on. I spun the wheel in the other direction, and the car slowly evened out. Didn’t hit anything, didn’t go past 90 degrees.

The DQ was white, however.

We continued on our way, a little slower, a little more careful. Eventually we got her to school, a little late, and I waited for ten minutes and then headed home. Schools aren’t closed yet. Maybe tomorrow.

Not mine; Wil’s. But reading it, I had flashbacks to my childhood.

Yup, our roof leaked. Small surprise, huh? When I was between fifth grade and tenth, we lived in a singlewide trailer in Anchorage. It had a built-on “lean to” that always leaked. I’ve probably mentioned it in the past.

In the summer, it didn’t leak. Because there wasn’t any rain. And if there was, it did leak, and patching the holes would be difficult due to the water. In the winter, it leaked a lot. The roof was flat, so the snow piled up, and Dad would go up there and sweep it off. But the snow would melt and it would leak again. Dad would go up when it was dry to patch the holes with a bucket of tar-stuff.

But I always hated it when the roof leaked.

Last night was the DQ’s choir recital at the church.

Let me be honest. Her singing is terrific. I can’t imagine from where she got her sense of pitch and her sense of rhythm, both of which contribute also to her clarinet. Her other arts, also fabulous. Her drawings are great and her stories are remarkable. And, frankly, I just recently came around to having her tested for TAG. She’s brilliant.

Yeah, she reads this too. Hi hon. Don’t get too swelled a head, mkay?

So I’m sitting there holding Miss K, listening to the bell choir and then to the other choirs and Miss K is also singing. Singing in the songs, in the response songs, she’s got half the words and most of the song and rhythm. And that’s just from sitting in my lap! At the same time, she’s “drawing a picture” for her sister (to be honest, not one of her more intricate works, but she had some other great pictures that night).

And then my world tilts slightly and I realize- if I want my kids to go to Julliard or to some other art school, it’s going to have to be on a scholarship. While we make “decent” money, there are no reserves and the bills almost exactly match the income. And it’s my responsibility to make sure that my daughters have the education that their talents need. How do I get them what their muses ne in order to help them down the road?

That’s the deal. I (we parents) supply the knowledge and get out of their way.

Right?