Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Another Snow Day

Notably, no radio show last night, as the blizzard was in its tenth hour. The snow falling fast, thick, and horizontally looked like television static outside under the streetlamps. Reports of total snowfall here range from 7 to 30 inches, depending on who's doing the measuring and how the snow drifted outside their porch or dorm entrance. Did you know that, by definition, a blizzard has to have two inches of snowfall per hour, and winds up to 35 mph? Ah, the things you learn watching the Weather Channel with the baby.

D'oh Millionaire

Instead, Darcie and I curled up by the virtual hearth with popcorn and hot cocoa. Fully intending to channel-surf, we ended up sucked into the utter banality and predictability of the two-hour finale of Joe Millionaire. The soap opera lighting and camera angles only added a veneer of the surreal to what was already clearly the dregs of televisionary "reality," in which beautiful people pretend they're average, and we agree to go along with it for the sake of form. Within the first three minutes I had already guessed, correctly, that the "twist" they kept plugging would be a million-dollar "gift" to the happy couple, and the way in which they tried playing up the ultimate loser as "perfect for Joe" for the first hour and a half was so transparent that I doubt sincerely that anyone really thought he'd pick her.

I knew FOX thought its viewers were stupid, but I didn't know they thought we were that stupid. Worse, what if most people are that stupid? The mind boggles...well, at least mine does; apparently not everyone's mind is capable of it.

A Conspiracy of Snow

With school cancelled, one of us got to sleep late, and it wasn't my turn. After diapering and an hour or so of on-the-floor with the baby and her veritable plethora of stuffed squeakers and shiny gum-soothers, I handed her back to a now-awoken Darcie for breastfeeding and their midmorning nap, made coffee, sat around in my socks and caught up on my reading. Darcie awoke an hour later and offered to shovel out the big blue grandparentmobile if I watched the baby; to keep her occupied while Mama was gone I played the flute and thumbpiano for her along with the excellent new Dixie Chicks album on the stereo, which she thought hilarious.

By a civilized 11 o'clock, the car cleared and the day warmed over, I headed out into the newly-plowed roads on an excursion to solve the car problem. The originally Floridian and therefore antifreezeless wiper fluid was a frozen block in its plastic tenk alongside the engine, but after stopping three times to wipe the windshield with snow melting off the car hood, I finally found the exit to Easthampton only to realize that my directions ended at the exit ramp. Called Darcie from the parking lot of what turned out to be a small warehouse-turned-arts-building, one of those mostly-dead spaces filled with odd crafts stores and web development companies, and at least one ethnically obscure restaurant specializing in Broiled Yak or garlic yoghurt. Got the address and, more importantly, the name of where the heck I was going. Asked directions in a coffeeandgas place; forgot to buy windsheild wiper fluid; went back.

Managed to both find the Deputy Collector's Office and successfully pay the backtaxes on the car. Then went back to right behind the warehouse/mall thingie with it's deeply gouged laquered floor, in an attempt to re-register the car with proof of tax up-to-dateness, to find the RMV darkened and locked. Seems the snow caused arbitrary unannounced closings of some state services. Either that, or something more sinister: lunch break with no sign for the customers, maybe. Your taxes at work.

Bah, humbug. Bring it on, spring.

Living La Vida Virtual

In other news, over the past two days I bought a whole bunch of CDs I couldn't afford at amazon.com for purely self-soothing reasons, and then a whole bunch more off a godsend gift certificate someone special sent me as a belated birthday present. I prefer to buy locally, even if it costs a few bucks more, but one great thing about snow days, 'specially when you live on a T1 LAN, is that you feel perfectly justified sitting home and venturing out virtually: blogging, catching up on e-pals, doing the daily jigsaw puzzle, shopping online. Where are you going to go, a mostly shut-down Easthampton? What else are you going to do, watch crappy, overly predicatable television? Cyberspace is da bomb.