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bear by san

March 2017



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if they want to kiss my ass well they better make it fast, 'cos we're all gonna die someday

All in all, a very satisfactory morning.

Got up, had coffee with the family and batwrangler, saw them off to a dog show. I shoveled and sanded the walk and what passes for a driveway around here, because even though it's going to rain all day and get into the fifties this afternoon, those ice berms the plow leaves don't melt in a day--and we're next door to the church, and it's Sunday, and people do walk. Or park on the side of the road and have to traipse around the Common to get there. While shoveling, I passed the time of day with dogwalkers and the organist for the OTHER church, which is across the Common. (The Catholics are down the block and around the corner. Their sidewalks are their own problem.)

We talked about the weathr, of course.

Anyway, shoveling and sanding is a matter of civic obligation in New England--possibly almost a sacred duty--and if I take the dog for a walk later I won't be able to bitch about others not shoveling if I haven't, myself.

As my reward, since (despite the light drizzle) it was actually very nice out--35 degrees and sort of pleasantly Marchlike--I betook myself down to the local Cumberland Farms for a peppermint hot cocoa while they're still in season. (I hadn't had one yet this year.) And anyway, I had a free fountain drink from the gas club. It's a little more than a half-mile walk there and back again, and very pleasant except where people hadn't shoveled yet. ;) )

Cumberland Farms is convenience store that's another beloved Yankee institution, sort of like Dunkin Donuts. Except they have gas as well as reliably clean bathrooms and decent coffee, and they're all open 24 hours. (The real reason for the Yankee cult of Dunkies: long distance driving pitstops.)

Going and coming and at the store, I counted no fewer than six conversations with neighbors. Every single one was about the weather.

It's a good thing it's so interesting here, or Yankees would have nothing to talk about.

I got back home just as the church carillon was starting. And hey, they fixed the speakers!

Now it's time for some breakfast and some work. 2015 had better continue cooperating on the wordcount, is all I can say, because I did the math yesterday and I need to write somewhere north of 300,000 words this year in order to make my deadlines.

Okay, so, that's an average of a thousand words a day, with time off for conventions and good behavior. Pretty doable, really.

And on that note--to the Batmobile!


That sounds like a wonderfully pleasant start to the day! Being a native Michigander I can relate to the clearing of path ways. One of my brothers is pianist so growing up I always got the "hard labor" chores to protect his hands haha. Granted he is now a traveling harpsichordist based out of NYC so I take some credit for his success.

That is an insane total word count but when you break it up like that it seems much less daunting. (Note, not easier just less crippling with its massiveness.) I used to do something similar in boot camp when we were running (not my favorite past time) where I would tell myself, "Just 600 more seconds of running, I can totally do that!" (Because ten minutes felt waaay longer for some reason.)

Well, I hope your day continues to be pleasant and peaceful and that your Batmobile put rubber to pavement with record speed!

Happy Sunday!

Edited at 2015-01-04 03:21 pm (UTC)
I do the same thing running! "Just three more miles. I can run three miles before breakfast."

It works for all sorts of things. The old joke about eating the elephant one bite at a time turns out to be a koan.

We had only women in my household, so I learned to shovel and take the trash out and do all the things. I still find it very satisfying.

That sounds homey and satisfying. I skipped the shoveling, because despite yesterday's ice storm it is supposed to be 50F today, and nobody walks on my street. Everything is just about melted off already.

Instead, I'm ensconced in the recliner pondering all the things I would be doing if only I could do all the things.

I kind of think that my previous LJ comments to your blog were using my other account because participating here predates my second blog/LJ, but if we're trying to resurrect the community this account is the more appropriate one.
We're supposed to get 55 today and 17 tomorrow. Wheee? Wheee!

Livejournal renaissance! I'm for it.
The real reason for the Yankee cult of Dunkies: long distance driving pitstops.

I still remember, unfondly, the trip when we discovered that the Dunkin Donuts in St. Johnsbury VT was no longer open after midnight. We were -- for reasons that seemed good to Himself at the time -- making the trip from Timonium MD back to Colebrook in one long hell-ride, and when we pulled into St. J's at 2 AM we were in a state of serious caffeine deprivation and looking forward to the stop at Dunkie's. Which was closed.

It was, in fact, a Cumberland Farms which saved us at that juncture.
The Dunkies in Haverhill is open all night, and probably saved me from a ruptured bladder coming home from catvalente's place one night.

After we were turned away by a CVS, a McDonald's, and something else. And then they gave us coffee.

That was the trip that made a convert of scott_lynch, as I recall.
Donald Hall wrote a wonderful essay some years ago about Yankees and talking about the winter weather at a Cumberland Farms (or equivalent thereof.)

As you have probably noticed, Minnesotans also talk about the weather by default, or perhaps I should say compulsively. My mother has lived here for better than twenty years, but she still sometimes plaintively wishes that there were some other small-talk default. Since I obsessively read the Scientific Forecaster Discussion on Weather Underground, I can't really say much that's relevant to her concerns. But I do lead conversations with cat anecdotes. It's the best I can manage.

We had our damp March weather yesterday, and now it's uncertain whether the high temperature will or won't have a minus sign in front of it. But there's sunshine, which is something.

I wish all the Cumbie's were 24 hours. I can think of three that aren't: one has no gas, one has gas but isn't one of the fancy remodeled stores, and one is a fancy remodeled store and still closes at midnight.

I've become something of a connoisseur of Cumberland Farms because of SmartPay (the gas club); I've saved over $100 this year because of it. When I was riding my motorcycle almost exclusively this summer, the beverage rewards came slowly. It takes a while to rack up 30 gallons of gas when you're pumping 2-2.5 gallons at a time, but then, I can't take a fountain drink on the bike.

All of this to say, I totally get and agree with the Cumbie's love. :-)
I once spent the night in a Dunkin Donuts by the Greyhound station in Bangor, Maine, waiting for my brother to come get me from Downeast. It was the only place open. It was hard to stay awake, no matter how much coffee I drank. I wrote a short film about it and a friend made it in grad school.

Well, this is why we operate on the chant, "It's all material."

shoveling snow

More than a ton at the front door to move. Doable by shoveling each pan-load into the snow blower's maw whilst the "DeadMan" switch is held down with velcro(c)
Grins for Bear

Re: shoveling snow

I have a feeling this ends with a Darwin Award...