Of wusses and weather

It made me mad last night to have to spend the evening in my low cut boots. Usually by 6:30 p.m., the boots are back in their resting place, and I'm wearing my slippers getting ready for my own rest. I worked on some projects last night, so couch potato time in front of the tube came a bit later, but I still had the TV going while in the kitchen.

At least half a dozen times, once after changing into my slippers, I had to go outside with the broom and sweep off the satellite dish. Heavy wet snow was falling and covering it, causing a fuss inside. Dpi's were dancing around the television screen to snap, crackles and pops. I'm using that term (dots per inch) because that's exactly what was happening with the picture. Instead of one mass image, the show kept disintegrating into hundreds of little moving parts spitting out sounds with every step.

I cussed every time I had to drop what I was doing, and I prayed that sixteen tons of snow didn't slide off the roof burying me as I headed out the side door with the broom. It was wet out there, not cold but definitely miserable. One time I went out to sweep only to discover back inside that my efforts had gone in vain. I accepted the consequences and figured we'd have a night of no TV, but then "Ugly Betty" was coming on at 8. I was hoping it would not be another rerun.

So, in desperation, I took a dish towel out there and gave the dish (satellite, that is) a thorough wipe down. Success! The TV behaved for the rest of the evening, but "Ugly Betty" disappointed. It seems they're running the whole series over again before bringing on any new stories. Damn! I had to watch "The Office."

A few minutes into the show, which is about as quirky as I am, my earlier thoughts of "Ugly Betty" had died. It was good that I had to switch the channel because I chuckled several times at the delightful ridiculousness of the show. My favorite part was when Michael, the goofy, unlucky-in-love boss, pulled out his magic marker and scrawled a quick line on the arm of one of two waitresses so he'd know which one of the pair he'd fallen for. After all, he was drunk, and they looked a lot alike.

Later, a night of wild winds served as a chaser to the earlier snow storm. Hearing about the winds on sixteen dozen weather reports, I'd buttoned down the hatches of the barn and made sure all animals were snugly tucked in their beds. The power went off once during the night, only momentarily. That was good because we've been relying on electric heat so far this winter.

This morning, the toilet seat was a bit cold. That's when I thought of winters past when we were really little kids living in the house on North Boyer. We had no TV to keep us occupied; we occupied ourselves. When we went to bed at night to howling winds and buckets of snow, only the stove in the living room and whatever blankets we had could keep us warm. We could not just go to the wall and turn the dial higher. We were too cold, too huddled in our beds besides the fact that there was not thermostat.

I slept in the east bedroom on the north side of the house far away from the stove. My brothers slept in the west bedroom, off the kitchen also on the north side of the house far away from the stove. I can remember truly long winter nights wrapped up in a fetal position with blankets over my head, knowing that any movement might let in some more of that frigid air.

It was cold back then, probably no colder than what it is these days, but we truly toughed it out as that outside air found its way into the house around window frames---especially during the night. It kept us focused on one challenge, staying warm. We weathered the storms, and maybe we're resilient because of it, but that doesn't stop the complaining these days if some little item goes wrong, providing a momentary frustration.

I like to think that growing up in those times equipped us with the knowledge of what to do when the lights go out for the entire night and when the satellite dish refuses to beam those favorite TV shows into our snug living rooms or bedrooms with thermostats aplenty. I know I can tough it out, but, like most humans of 2006, I like my creature comforts.

It takes times like this to make us realize how lucky we are that far technology has come to keep us happy and warm, and the realization might just keep me from uttering bad words the next time the snow threatens to shut down "The Office."