For Frying Out Loud (24 page)

February 2010

THE SNOWPOCALYPSE!

For Rehoboth Beach, not used to wintery wallops, the snow removal policy is pretty much “the lord giveth, the lord taketh away.”

Oh the weather outside WAS frightful on Super Bowl weekend 2010 and it caught lots of coastal residents by surprise. We hadn't seen so much snow here since 1996.

The citizenry gulped Thursday night February 4 when weather forecasters uttered the B-word, for blizzard. Pink blobs on the weather map warned of heavy snow for D.C., Baltimore and Philadelphia. Oddly, there was a bright orange blob, something reminiscent of Sigourney Weaver's
Alien
over Southern Delaware and New Jersey – preparing us to bear the brunt of the storm. Who are they kidding? We never get as much as they predict.

Friday late afternoon saw flurries, as brave souls made it along the messy roads to local watering holes for what might have been a last taste of restaurant food and bartender-fixed adult beverages. While we downed Cosmos, the flurries turned furious. Then came the Governor's announcement of a statewide snow emergency with non-essential travel prohibited. I tried to determine if getting to Happy Hour had been essential. Yes.

It may well have been a state of emergency for folks who had neglected to get to the grocery, which, from the look of the ravaged shelves were damn few. It looked like a bomb had gone off in the toilet paper aisle.

So we were home by 9 p.m. on Friday, hunkered down with the pups and ready to sneer at forecasters for blowing things out of proportion once again.

Okay, it was big. We awoke Saturday to almost a foot of snow, backyard barbecue and patio furniture buried in dunes, white stuff still falling but with hopes it was tapering off.

Okay, it got bigger. Mea Culpa to the forecasters. Tree tops glistened and children listened to the entire neighborhood of shovelers grunting. As the dogs and I watched our Alpha clear the front walk, the path behind her filled up a fast as she shoveled. After only 15 minutes I was mate to the abominable snowman. Pretty soon the Yeti gave up and came inside.

The only thing happening faster than the snow was our consumption of empty calories. Why does being snowbound trigger our inner oinkers? The four of us huddled on the sofa, carbohydrate loading (dog biscuits are carbs, too) and ogling
L Word
reruns.

In fairness, I balanced my pathetic gulping with my new health food regimen: red wine and dark chocolate. They have been declared good for you. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

By mid-day Saturday, hoping the snow was tapering off and thinking it might be safe to go back in the water…ing hole, the reverse happened. We got another dump, with major drifting from increased winds. Not only could we lose a Schnauzer in the drifts, but I was concerned about the BMW. Whiteout conditions ensued and we couldn't see two feet in front of our faces, much less where eight paws might search in vain for a spot of grass in the drift-contoured back yard.

When we opened the sunroom's sliding glass door to toss the two unsuspecting Schnauzers into the snow, concerns for their health, not to mention our carpets, were assuaged when we spied small areas of yellow snow. Good boys. Unfortunately, drifting snow blew into the door track, and unbeknownst to us kept the door from closing all the way. Next time we looked we had a bunny slope in the sunroom.

By late afternoon lights and cable flickered, frightening us into locating our K-Mart wind-up radio. Losing internet, TV, phone and lights, channeling Mary Todd Lincoln for Super Bowl weekend, was not my idea of a gay old time.

Fortunately or unfortunately the lights held, so we could see just how much popcorn and pizza we ate. Somebody stop
me! That the cable survived was good too, because it was fun watching our local TV personalities, frostbit and turning into frozen margaritas, reporting live from the scene.

Come a sunny Sunday morning, the full extent of the mess revealed itself. Entire communities stood stranded by unplowed streets. The only action outside my house was the occasional groan from hikers struggling toward the re-opening grocery stores. Cigarettes ? Booze? Both? I wondered how long I'd last before setting out once we downed the last of the Chubby Hubby ice cream.

Some hardy and fool-hardy people started digging themselves out of the two-foot deluge. My mate and I took turns trying to free up one car and a path for it to back into the street. With both of us being middle aged (provided we live until 120) we were acutely aware of being cautious. One of us would do a 15-minute stint with our only snow shovel while the other would nag “bend your knees, don't lift too much at once, stop if you get winded,” then we'd switch places and continue the nag-a-thon.

At one point an ambulance slogged up the road. We never saw it come back, since we instantly abandoned shoveling, thoughts of heart attacks and strokes dancing in our heads. After a few minutes inside with a
Law & Order
marathon and doctored hot chocolate, we determined we were not in acute medical danger but gave up shoveling anyway. If our street got plowed, Mt. Kilimanjaro would just get shoved onto our newly cleared driveway. So like Scarlet says in
Gone with the Wind
, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”

And speaking of another day, by 1 p.m. Sunday the school board called off classes for both Monday and Tuesday. Some restaurants announced they would still fry chicken wings and serve beverages for the Super Bowl, but others threw in the towel and stayed dark. A quick check revealed it was the LGBT places keeping the lights on. We are a hardy lot.

With cameras snapping snowy sights, and kitchens all over the coast preparing football food, a blizzard covered Sussex
County took it in stride. While some folks dug out, others dug in for the big game. It sure looked toasty in Miami and New Orleans.

By Monday afternoon, after the Saints had come marching in to the goalposts, some neighborhoods were still cut off from civilization. Front end loaders had created mountains of dirty white ice and snow in medians, parking lots and throughout downtown Rehoboth. At traffic lights, most right turn lanes were blocked by great walls of snow, making turning an extreme sport. According to that Pennsylvania rodent Punxsutawney Phil, spring thaw is still six weeks away and from the look of things, the snow piles could last until June Pride Week.

On Tuesday morning it was starting to seem like the classic film
Groundhog Day
, with everything repeating itself. The weather forecast called for Snowmeggedon part two. Just a mere 8-10 inches this time. Mere.

Damn those necessities! We had plenty of toilet paper and milk, but dog food and mac ‘n cheese were running low. My spouse, eager to play with her four-wheel drive vehicle, fought her way out onto the unplowed street, pioneering a path to the store. Yee-Ha!

Like a triumphant Lewis & Clark, we returned in time to hear the superintendant close school for the rest of the week. At this point Bonnie will be working until July 4th.

They say our climate change problems can cause violent weather shifts along with the disturbing rise in global temperatures. A little of that global warming would feel pretty good right about now. It might stop me from making the Rice Crispy treats…naaah…. Oh the weather outside is frightful but the snacks are so delightful, let it snow,, let it snow, let it…somebody stop me before I eat again….

March 2010

ARE Wii OR ARE Wii NOT FIT?

Sally Field can drink Boniva to strengthen her bones but I'm drinking beer.

It's been a weird winter alright, and just one of the strange things to come out of it was a University of California study revealing that beer is a rich source of something called silicon (as opposed to silicone for the boobs) which increases bone density and helps prevent osteoporosis. Hand me a Yuengling.

So I'm guzzling my health drink and marveling at the creative ways we managed to survive this terrible, terrible winter. Not that the Snowpocalypse didn't take its toll. Around Rehoboth, we were house bound so many days even the dogs got sick of lying on the sofa. They say killer whales get stir crazy in captivity, but they have nothing on me. The snow was as high as an elephant's eye, yet I was willing to risk a triple lutz in the street to get to Cloud 9 for a martini; I was eager to chance the driveway luge track to fight for my right to toilet paper at Food Lion; my god, I was even anxious to scoop pup poop in the back yard, only it was covered by 28 inches of snow.

“It's 14 degrees out. You're staying put,” said my spouse. “Let's do Wii Fit training.”

I don't know if you are aware of this sadistic gym video or not, but you turn on the TV, put the disk into the machine and stand on a wireless plastic platform to get weighed. Within seconds a snarky cartoon character tells you your weight and body mass index. Like I wanted to know. What's worse, the little animation then says, out loud, in a judgmental voice, “You're obese.”

What do you say to that? Stunned, I muttered “Gee, thanks. Are you aware I've already lost 25 pounds since summer?” Apparently not. According to Wii Fit, we (the Royal We) are not fit.

Furthermore, after a couple of balance and aerobic tests
the blasted cartoon informs me that my fit age is 65, which would be fine if I was 85. It would also be fine if I could get Medicare. But noooo, there is no justice. Having a computer-generated nudnick tell you your body is four years older than your actual age is highly mortifying. Not only am I stir crazy like Orca, I weigh just as much.

Not to be deterred by humiliation, I spent much of my house time trying to get my numbers down. Among others, I tried a Wii game where you run up and down in place, propelling a cartoon bicycle around a cartoon bike route. Much like my real pedaling prowess, I ran into walls and fell off a lot, but the virtual version hurts less.

I also tried games where I hit soccer balls with my head and did aerobics with a class full of cartoon competitors, none of whom were panting and gasping for air like I was. Wii are not fit, indeed.

However, I'm happy to report that by last week, my numbers were actually coming down, along with my cartoon age. I'm now just a baby whale. Actually, I've come to respect the Wii Fit and for the first time in my entire life I am exercising. Amazing what a little animated peer pressure can do.

Also, barometric pressure. As the weather got worse, temperatures teetering between 20 and 37 degrees, we all got to stay home and watch the Olympics. It's a shame we couldn't sell snow to Vancouver where they needed it. Meanwhile, what's the deal with curling? It's like a combination of shuffled board and housework, where you fling the granite stone and use the mop and glo to sweep it down court. I could never work up much excitement about the game but it did make me snicker.

I loved watching the ski jump events. The majesty of a young athlete soaring through the air was exhilarating. As luck would have it, there's a ski jump balance exercise on my Wii Fit too. I'd crouch on the platform in front of the TV, watch the cartoon skier coming down the chute and then quickly straighten my knees (crackle) when I thought I should jump. Wheeeeee!

Most times the cartoon Fay could be seen rolling ass over tea kettle in the snow, but every once in a while I jumped just right and flew like a champ. When I finished, the Wii totaled my score and announced I was “unbalanced.” I've heard that before.

When it was passable outside but still not a great idea to go driving hither and yon, we spent several evenings hosting friends or going to friends' homes. In the old days it was Studio 54 or any number of dance clubs; now it's Wii bowling in somebody's living room. Simultaneously, the Tea Baggers and Conservative PAC people were out on the West Coast boozing it up and consorting with call girls while the gay people were all sitting around playing Wii – what's wrong with this picture????

I do have to ask if there's a correlation between Wii bowling and the crush of people having rotator cuff surgery. Just sayin'.

One night it was hilarious. After dining on a 2300 calorie dinner, we tried the Wii's virtual hula hoops to work off 11 calories each. Amid shouts of “Align your pelvis, baby!” and “Work it! Work it! Work it!” the soundtrack recalled days on the disco dance floor. Back then we'd hit the diner for a nightcap. Now we're lucky it's not drinking contrast dye before an MRI at the hospital.

Along with the closing ceremonies for the Olympics, I know we are all anxious to see the closing ceremonies from this disgustingly cold and blizzard-filled winter. Even our pals who escaped to Florida were rewarded with cold feet. It was warmer in Canada. Let's face it, Spring Fever could be a pandemic this year.

Okay, winter, go on now, go walk out the door, just turn around now, 'cause you're not welcome anymore, I will survive. Hey, Hey.

As a matter of fact, let's chill the brew to fight bone loss and get out the summer clothes. They are going to look great, because after all, Wii Fit!