The sun’s out, for a change; but that last nooze post, on goings-on in the Buffalo public schools, took something out of me. I mean, we are in so much trouble, so deep in trouble, so totally surrounded by trouble, it makes my head spin.
I wish I were working on another book, but that has to wait until the spring. Somewhere in the unknown west, a huge armada is preparing to invade Obann. The city of Durmurot has no way to defend itself. I do know what’s going to happen with that armada, but I don’t dare breathe a word of it–that would be a major spoiler. And then there’s a looming crisis in Lintum Forest to be dealt with: the accursed past has reached out to the present.
It seems to me that we have nothing left but our prayers, and no one to turn to but God Our Father. No one left to defend us but Him. Keeping the faith, these days, is not easy. Cranking up my morale so I can write every day–well, that’s not easy, either. I appreciate your prayers.
I think of Sir Thomas Malory, writing the Morte D’Artur while he was banged up in a medieval prison on charges which have remained obscure to this day. He had a load to carry. And I tell myself, If he can do it, so can I. I, at least, don’t have to worry about the kinds of punishments they used to hand out in the 15th century.
Let’s pray the leftids don’t go quite that far. Pray often. Pray hard.
First, more snow–my fault, of course, for liking snow. I had to go to the supermarket and stock up for the week. It was still snowing when I got back, so I went outside for my cigar. Somehow that made the snow turn into heavy rain and now we have a slush storm.
And in the adjacent apartment, they’re doing some kind of major construction project, providing us in our apartment with a symphony of loud hammering, loud drilling, and lots of banging around. If you’ve ever tried to write with heavy construction noises as your background music, you’ll know what I’m up against. But Patty has it worse: she’s trying to do our taxes. It sounds like they’re testing helicopter engines in the adjacent kitchen. I was going to write my Newswithviews this afternoon: dream on.
I think I’ll just post another hymn, and then try to go back to reading Sebastian Gorka’s book, which I’m reviewing for Chalcedon.
I hope I don’t go mad. They’ve just started with the power drills again.
I’m sitting at the table the other night, finishing my supper, facing our living room window. It’s a winter night and the wind has sprung up.
And outside–! Out there, someone is bobbing around, trying to look into our apartment. Holy cow. I mean, that can’t be good! World’s full of crazies, isn’t it?
But then I figured out what it was that I was looking at, and I called my wife over so she could sit in my chair and see what I saw. She saw it, all right.
We have a plastic jack-o’-lantern hanging from a tree outside, and the wind combined with a trick of the light made it look like some stalker in a hoodie. Maybe we’ve heard too many stories about that.
It’s always nice when a sharp little scare turns out to be some silly thing that can’t possibly do you any harm.
We’ve been trying for a week to get Patty’s car out of the ice. Unable to drive, she’s been getting cabin fever. Our neighbor, Josh, shoveled some away the other day and said he thought we might be able to move it today.
Well, I tried. The car got stuck again. I shoveled some more, and then some more–and voila! She finally broke loose. I took it around the block and parked it on the street so Patty could drive us to the supermarket.
Coming home, I suggested we park on the street again, so she could walk on the sidewalk instead of an uneven expanse of frozen snow, and then I’d return the car to our regular parking space–but no, she didn’t think we had to go to all that trouble.
It turned out that we should have. She parked the car all right, but couldn’t manage walking the terrain. She had to try to, though. I followed close behind, so I could catch her if she fell. The ice there is very tricky and I fell there the other day.
So of course she did fall, and off to the side where I couldn’t reach her. “I told you to fall backwards,” I helpfully reminded her. Getting her back on her feet, amid all that slippery ice, was no treat.
She’s going to be sore tomorrow, but she’s all right now.
I’ve loved snow all my life, but too much is too much.
No, it wasn’t “How long did it take you to write that?” Although that particular question is always asked. Always. And I’d estimate about 95% of the people I talk to say they’d write a book, too, if they had more time.
But this is the one that takes the cake (in case you don’t have time to click on the original post from 2017):
Of course, this has been greatly refined at the highest echelons of public life. It’s so much simpler up there: leftists can do no wrong, and conservatives can do no right. Evidence? Don’t make me laugh! We don’t need no stinkin’ evidence! So conservatives get railroaded, but when it comes to massive election fraud for the benefit of Democrats, the courts won’t even look at the evidence. Take it away, we don’t wanna see it!
Once you experience it for yourself, you don’t forget it.
Well, our larder is replenished. What I did was take a cab out to the Stop & Shop and back–under the circumstances, well worth the cost. Now we’ve got enough food to last us well into next week… in case the snow doesn’t melt.
Benny the cabbie provided pleasant conversation. He’s been driving for Metuchen Cab for 25 years. “I’m sure there are more exciting places to drive a cab,” I said, “but who needs that kind of excitement?” And Benny said, “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen, driving a cab. I could write a book.” Yeah, I’ll bet he could. Things go on in small towns that the local newspaper never gets wind of.
Anyhow, huge load of groceries securied, sun is shining, and I’m bushed. I think I need a cigar.
P.S.–I have just discovered that my neighbor, Josh, took it upon himself to shovel out my car! I could hardly believe my eyes–no way I could’ve done it myself. I used to do those things when I was some years younger–pitch in to get neighbors’ cars shoveled out. Now someone has done it for me.
I tried again this morning to get my wife’s car out of the snow, but could get no farther than clearing a path to her door. We’ve had freezing rain, so the snow is half-ice and very, very heavy.
We really need to get out and buy some groceries–but how? We called the cab company, but got no answer. Ditto the free senior citizens’ bus. Crikey! We don’t want to turn into a mini-Donner Party, do we? I love snow, but there is such a thing as too much of a good thing: several years’ worth of snow in just one storm.
Yesterday a bunch of tenants next door dug out their cars–but where to dump the snow? Ah–behind and around everybody else’s cars.
We’ve finally heard from the vet (no one was able to get to the office yesterday). Robbie’s blood work is in. Her numbers are a little better, but she’s not out of the woods yet: we must slightly increase the dosage of her thyroid medicine. She’s 14 years old, and more dramatic treatment is out of the question.
But she still likes to run up the stairs full-tilt after using the litter box, and in most other ways seems her normal self. Fun is still fun, as far as she’s concerned. But she needs to put some weight back on.
Well, the moment of truth has come and gone, and I just couldn’t shovel out Patty’s car: couldn’t even shovel my way to it. We had some freezing rain on top of the snow, and it made the snow very, very heavy.
My wife, my editor, and my neighbor all warned me off taking on this job, so that was a vote of 3-0, the nays have it. I did try, but thought it wise not to try too hard.
I love snow, but this is too much of a good thing. How we’re going to get out to buy groceries is a mystery to me.
Once upon a time, I could’ve done it: twenty years ago or so. Oh, to be 50 again.