The Weather Outside is #*&$**#@

The weather outside is frightful.

And certainly not delightful.

More like Nightmare on Fridge Street levels of torture. Temperatures and pain that have me clipping coupons and resigning myself to eating spam and noodles for the remainder of my days so I can afford to retire in Arizona.

I can't take this weather and for absofreakinlutely sure I will not be able to take it at a fragile age 62. Because it's so cold that the temperature outside is just making everything cold. And with that last sentence as evidence, it's also cold enough that I've lost my eloquence.

Just because our asses are frozen off doesn't mean our brains have to go the same way. With the current Arctic blast as my witness, I will not let this winter take me down sounding like I went to the Trump academy of public expression. I will de-frost my once bountiful vocabulary, and offer the same wealth of words assistance to you, my Popsicle friends.

If you find yourself in the swirl of a blustery day worthy of Jack Frost's lexicon, allow me to lend you a descriptive hand. You will never again be at a loss to bring the icicle daggers attacking your homestead to life even when your senses are unable to thaw through to your inner thesaurus.

Bring your facebook followers, twitter commiserators, and instagram crew, the vivid day in the life of a winter sufferer that will have them crying icy tears. If it's sympathy for your tundra plight that you seek, throw a few of these subzero hashtags into your mix and find instant camaraderie. (who doesn't love a pity party with attendance of more than one, me that's who)

Post a photo of your cryogenic suffering and head to hashtag heaven with these icy beauties:

unwelcoming

forbidding

cool

frigid

frosty

glacial

numb

chilly

freezing

shivery

benumbed

hypothermic

wintry

gelid

bleak

brisk

sharp

stinging

algid

biting

blasted

penetrating

piercing

polar

inclement

nipping

Siberian

severe

boreal

arctic

brumal

frore

snappy

raw

pelting

I live in Wisconsin, and believe you me, there will be no shortage of opportunity to run through this list at least tenfold before we next see signs of life in this state.

By which time, I'm sure I'll just be hitting my hashtag stride due to a looooong Midwestern winter. #cold #socold #dying #help

 

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What Do The Birds Say?

Ignore the piles of snow alongside your driveway. Forget about still needing to wear that white wool headband that leaves you looking like the drummer boy returning home from the Civil War. The calendar tells us it's spring! And so do the birds outside my window.

I love the sound of bird songs. I am dorky enough to have this CD in my kitchen going at all times. It makes me happy. Happy, as long as I stay ignorant and just keep on telling myself, they're only bird sounds. They don't serve the purpose of communication, of course not.


120 minutes of bird calls! You wouldn't expect him to be creepy, would you?

This means, just as with WebMD, don't google, "What do birds sing." If you do, then you'll find out why birds sing. It's not to sound pretty, how's that. And if you think you're as smart as a fifth grader and our feathered friends are only setting their lives to a backdrop of trills and whistles merely as the obvious mating calls and to claim territories, you would be wrong. That’s a whole lot of effort and repertoire for “be mine” and “it’s mine.”

Life is complicated, and bird life no less entangled. Predator warnings are needed, information regarding food locations must be sung out, much like hobo markings on a fence in front of a house. “Hey, yo! Over here. And it’s a squirrel-free feeder too!” Maybe they're whistling out, “Hey, it was fun, let’s keep in touch” or “Let’s V-fly formation again soon!”

Mating calls are necessary, but even with their pebble sized brains, birds go beyond “Me want you.” Just like human life, there are whackadoo birds out there, too. Their eyes alight on a particularly dainty yellow finch, they begin screeching out right outside your kitchen window, “I won’t give up. You will be mine! Have you seen the extra food I gots here?” ::deep breath:: “You want THIS.”

Think about how we’re all more alike than not on this planet, makes me kinda glad we don’t know what birds are saying because mating season, y’all. I’m sure there are some calls that if we had a bird-o-translatron what we’d hear would be creepy. Down right inappropriate. Like really gross stuff. “Hey. I got surprises in my nest.” “Who's ready for the world’s biggest worm?”

And what about the bird that we see, all by himself? On that branch right outside your first floor window? No one else around for miles or for hours, yet, that bird keeps on chirping. To himself. Birds are not solitary creatures so is this guy a self-talker like on Seinfeld? I mean, I talk to myself every once in a while. But for hours on end? Outside? For the world to see? Just too sad.

If you've gone and taken your kids with a bag of bread to a pond to feed ducks, you’ll know the quack quack quack sound as you toss slice after slice at them. Is it as simply translated as, “bread bread bread BREAD bread bread.” No... it's all mine, go away, all for me.

In Wisconsin, wild turkeys strut and gobble around all year. They’re unsightly. They are as close to walking scrotums as ever designed. BUT, even more so, turkeys are the annoying people of the world. Gobble gobble gobble gobble. Google “turkey sounds” on youtube and you’ll be screaming ENOUGH after the first 17 seconds into any video.

Bird translations. I know all I have to know. I prefer to just enjoy and imagine they are sweetly innocent and so unlike us. I really don’t want to hear a Robin Red Breast boasting, “Look! Ladies! Shiny things in my nest! Blue ribbons! Some broken candy pieces! Twigs! Look at this place I got here! And let me tell YOU -- Plenty o’room. I do mean plenty cuz you’ll need it for the 80 eggs you’re gonna lay after spending some time with me. *wink wink*”

On second thought, wipe your mind clean of this post. Forget you ever read it. Continue on enjoying our sweet bird callers. Don’t imagine it as arguing, inappropriate pick up lines, shouting to each other to keep away from their tree branch.

I'm sorry if I just ruined spring for all of you. Now, the next time you’re at a park on a beautiful spring day, you’ll hear a bird sing and it won't sound like anything else but, “Hey! I’m talking to you! Big Papa, that's who! That's who and whose army!"

Maybe birds are all crazy like us. Crazy and screaming. Two fold screeching and scaring away while also calling forth. “Stay away. Be mine,” they call out. Just like the rest of us losing our minds because spring. Finally.

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Other Places You Can Find Me This Week:

Huffington Post

Aiming Low

MetroParent Milwaukee

Purple Clover 

Through the Eyes of Autumn

Autumn makes me wish I were a poet, so I could put into words how this sudden switch in my life, going from full force bursting at the seams summer to the tree baring pause of fall, fills me with the need to stop, and examine.

The space between summer and winter is more like a new year than December 31. Something gives way, something new arrives. The green of summer that slowly becomes burning blazes of autumn here in Wisconsin, is like a farewell bonfire to the days of sun, no schedules, and days that go on forever.

It's a bittersweet season, but I work through it.

I hope you join me, at Purple Clover today, as I think of the promises ahead, after all the leaves have fallen.

xo

* * *

Catching Up, and The Winner of the Summer Reading Basket!

Summer is here in Wisconsin, and that means that all of us in the mitten-shaped state lose our minds and pack every minute with ACTIVITIES! because SUMMER! We all know Wisconsin is shaped like a mitten to try and keep us warm. Our winters are legendary, below zero temps and wind chill factors that make you cry. When summer hits, we know we only have six weeks to be outside and get our yearly quota of mosquito bites and vitamin D.

And seriously, it's been a humid start to the summer thus far. I'm going through a gallon of cream rinse a day trying to keep this puffball on top of my head patted down. Living in the suburbs, there's nary a tube of what I could so easily find when I lived in the city -- the one thing that worked its magic on ethnic hair. VO-5.

I've taken to sleeping with a plaid hunter's cap strapped to my skull in hopes of somehow flattening the wild sage that's sprouting from my scalp follicles.

Russian sage is beautiful, yes -- but unfortunately, the same don't-hold-me-back look doesn't translate when it's on my head.

Summer is finally GD here, y'all, and despite the hair conditions of Guam, we're loving it. Our days are free, but business goes on.

Here's a quick recap of the week:

--I've been on LoopLetters (my new favorite thing) this week as part of a writers' series on summer injuries, click over to enjoy these stories Fibula Knee Groin Finger Face!  Kick The Can: A War Story by Ben Van Iten, This Didn’t Really Happen. This Is Fiction. Don’t Sue Me For Defamation. by Whitney Collins, Happy Fourth Of July In A Red, White, And Blue Fingertip by Alexandra Rosas, and I’m More Of An Autumn by Ken Martin.

--My second favorite thing has become the new site Purple Clover. I am thrilled to be writing for them, and I have been introduced to some great story tellers there. Purple Clover is going to be a community where the search for life lessons learned told in a humble, soul bearing way, will be found. I really hope you check them out. I write there this week of the Not-so-fine-art of letting go, and what it feels like when your first born practice child, turns 18.

--And we have big news! Through random.org the winner of the summer reading basket giveaway offered by five fabulous authors is Kathy Radigan of My Dishwasher's Possessed. Kathy, please email me your address so that I can forward the information to the authors, they will be sending you your books directly! SO excited for you, and what a prize!

Here's to sun screen slathered days, Deep Woods Off layered nights, and the surprise of a tube of VO-5 on a store shelf someday.

Love,

Your Wisconsin Russian Sage-Head

So pretty sprouting wild and free out of the ground, but not my head

photo credit: mmwm via photopin cc

First Annual Listen To Your Mother Milwaukee Show

WELCOME TO THE FIRST ANNUAL LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER MILWAUKEE SHOW! Join us for live readings by local writers as we celebrate the beauty and the beast of motherhood.  In celebration of Mother's Day, fourteen women and one young man will read their personal stories about the humor, the hope and the heartbreak of motherhood. A portion of ticket proceeds will benefit Sojourner Family Peace Center (http://www.familypeacecenter.org/), an organization dedicated to providing education, advocacy, and resources to keep people safe.  Sojourner Family Peace Center is committed to creating communities where people live peacefully. LTYM Milwaukee will be at the Wehr Hall on the Alverno College campus. Produced and directed by Alexandra Rosas and Jen Gaskell, the cast includes: Lindsay Atkinson Liysa Callsen Rebecca Christman Julie Davidson Rochelle Fritsch Kathryn Gahl Jen Gaskell Lisa Gooseberry Nikki Janzen Bonnie Johnson Amie Kapusta Tara Pohlkotte Rachel Schickowski Alec Schultze Pamela Stein **Only cash sales will be taken the day of the show.** ***We are honored to announce that this show will be ASL interpreted thanks to the generosity of two sponsors who are donating their time and talent.***

CLICK HERE to purchase tickets.

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Because The Moth Wanted To Know

I was with some big city folk last week, who were here in Milwaukee for TheMoth On The Road, a national live story telling series based out of NYC. As we sat passing the time before the show, conversation turned to asking what my plans would be for the coming weekend.

I let them know, "same as any other person's in Wisconsin."

City Mice:  "So, what will you do then?"

Country Mouse:  *repeating question back, in true Wisconsin style* "Me? What will I do this weekend? I'll be doing what everyone else in Wisconsin will be doing on a late May weekend: restocking the fridge with cheddar and having my rummage sale."

City Mice:  "Is that like a yard sale?"

Is it like a yard sale -- how do I even be-GIN to answer that. It is so much more than like a yard sale, garage sale, tag sale, odd-n-ends sale, estate sale, flea market, swap meet.

A rummage sale is, in its most beautiful form: sociological entertainment. Call your bestie, pour the coffee, pull up two lawn chairs, and have at it with the people-watching and whispering as you identify the rummage sale types.

City Mice:  "So, do you make any money?"

Country Mouse:  "Do I make any money? I just shove it in an envelope. With three kids, I just want to clear my house out and once it's out of the house it's not going back in -- what I don't sell, I pack up and drive to a Goodwill donation center. No, the money is just a fringe benefit. I do it for the people that come."

How does someone explain that it's the past time of sitting in your driveway and being an expert in the art of rummageology that you look forward to.

To sit and identify the Early Bird, the Cut Throat, the Price Tag Switcher, the Hoarder, the Snubber, the Yard Sale Addict, the Cheap Mom, the Yapper, the ReSeller, the Swap Meet of His Own Coming Up, the Professional, the Casual, the Haggler, the Negotiator, the Distracter, the Nosy Neighbor, the Lean Out The Car Window Scoper, the Scout, the Nothing Smaller Than a Hundred, the Appraiser, the Trained Eye, the Five Finger Discounter, the Antiques Roadshow Hopeful; that's where the fun is.

It's all of that. And at the end of the day, being able to take everyone out for pizza with the dollars you've made after your closets have been filtered down, to talk about the woman in the black wool coat and even blacker head scarf on a 90 degree day who went crazy over your gallon size plastic bag full of baby socks, $5 for the whole bunch: priceless.

And that's how we do it, in Wisconsin. Pass the cheddar and don't look now but I think I see a Yapper coming.

"Yah, hey...I said 25 cents EACH not 25 cents ALL...cripes."

Flickr cc
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**To learn more about the amazing interesting live story telling of The Moth, click here.