If you’re an idiot like me, tundra is defined as: “A treeless area between the icecap and the tree line of Arctic regions, having a permanently frozen subsoil and supporting low-growing vegetation such as lichens, mosses, and stunted shrubs.”
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr………. Please Mr. Custer…. I don’t wanna go-ooo-ooo.. Ohm-ohhhhhh…
Might I ask… was I the only one that ‘did battle’ yesterday morning with frozen car doors? GD it was cold. Peeking at the backa the Sport’s section today.. The listed low temps for the next four days are: 0, 2, 0, -2. Shit.
I’d piddled here… taken a bath… Yes, showerhead broken - but call my wimpy if you want, I PREFER a bath. Teeth brushed. Deodorant on. Gel put in hair so it will kinda behave. Gently awakened Maynard.. Out to start car. Uh oh. Can’t get in. Shit. Damn it’s cold, think I’ll put ma gloves on.
Now this is my favorite (only) paira gloves.. One, half of a fitty-nine cent pair of those cheapy little brown jersey things… and the other.. Onea them gloves that appear to be for a toddler, but expand to fit largeass hands… this one, green.
I’d broomed the walk, but this only managed to create a hockey rink underneath.. And I “Tim Conway’ed” my way to the car. Looking around.. I turned to see if Gladys Kravats was watching.. Or other neighbor.. Whew… didn’t see ‘em…
Carefully centering my 38” belly insidea 36” pants over my left foot, I propped my right leg up agin’ the back door, put the little green glove on the door handle, prayed like hell I wouldn’t slip, fall, break hip. (Son and I had just had a conversation “dad, at what age are you considered a Senior Citizen”…. “leave me alone son, I’ve emails to send.”
So I pull.. And pull.. My brain wavering between PLEASE OPEN and OH SHIT WHICH WAY WILL I FALL WHEN IT DOES OPEN. It finally does… I don’t fall. I’m cold. By now I have icy gelled, dreadlocks… and I crank ‘er up.
Why I selected the bigass hill route outta the neighborhood is beyond me, but I did. And uh huh, I gets behind this compact car, going 5mph, looking at addresses all the way up the frozen, iced over hill. GD! WILL YOU GIT URASS GOING UP THE HILL? WE AIN’T GONNA MAKE IT! YOU MIGHT BE ABLE TO TURN UR GD LITTLE COMPACT AROUND, BUT HAVE YOU NOTICED MINE IS THE SIZE OF A CABIN CRUISER?
Honest, I truly don’t cuss a lot. Except for here. Believe that shit? It’s true. GD, DO YOU KNOW THAT YOU JUST WAISTED 40 SECONDS OF MY LIFE BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T HAVE THE COURTESY TO SIMPLY ‘CLICK” YOUR TURNSIGNAL ON AND I SAT HERE WAITING ON YOUR ASS?… Uh huh, that’s me. Mr. Wimpy on the outside, Mr. Cantankerous on the inside (of my car.)
To the petrol station for the needed cigs, $12 a day gas to get me there, coffee (a have to) and salted peanuts (a want/have to.)… Then… just to the right of the “Service engine soon” light (have they seen my checking account balance?)… it dings “windshield washer fluid low”… “Check ride control” (I have no idea)… and finally “engine oil low.” Dammit Jim.
So’s, on my way in I graba quart from the display rack outside.. Grab my coffee, peanuts, cigs.. smile at Annette.. Pay.. To car to put oil in. Danger: If you need a quart of oil, don’t never buy one from a rack that’s outside on a “major shrinkage” day. It was like trying to put a quart of Dippity-Do into the oil opening thingy. Sixteen minutes later, and two quarters into the pay telephone “ahm boss... I’m runnin’ a little bit late this morning.. You see I had trouble.. Ah, never mind.. I’m just running a little late.” (Ever tried dialing with a fitty-nine cent brown jersey glove from two feet too far on a sub-zero day?)…
En route. Maynard lights a cig, rolls his window down four inches more than need be. Temp 74 degrees on his halfa the car, 12 on mine. I carry my wonderful $29 Norelco shaver wit’ me, and I shave after I drop Maynard off. By now, the stubble on my face has ice sickles.
So… I close one eye... Dream of robins.. “Play Ball”… North Redington Beach, Florida.. The road to Hana… Hanauma Bay.. Softball/sweat.. Mowing the yard… Helps some..
Maynard dropped, face shaved, into the lot I pull. Door resists some, but I remind it we’ve already gone over that. Brrrrr… GD wind.. I’m so glad I found this wonderful THICK, WARM $6 coat at the Thrift Store. “Victor, don’t tell them that.” Oops, wait. Forgot I ain’t married to her any more, so scratch that one. We’ll just call it a daydream, nota nightMare’
Bubbly co-worker has audacity to declare “HIYA VIC, HOW ARE YOU?”… Resisting the urge to say “I’m FUCKING FROZEN, I DAMN NEAR FELL, I’VE GOT THESE CHEAPASS GLOVES ON.. I RODE PARTWAY IN A WIND TUNNEL.. HOW CAN YOU BE SO POSITIVELY CHEERY ON A DAY LIKE THIS?” Instead, eeking out a smile.. And “Ahm, I’m fine, you?”
So I sits at my desk, a little less than halfheartedly ready to take on the day. Pity party going thru brain “I know she's skinny, but hell she disappeared!”.. then… I see a co-worker who’s boyfriend is just starting chemo… and another who’d just lost a parent… a gal who’s been thru an incredible divorce battle - ne’er a penny to her in years from the sonofabitch…
I see the obits.. Onea the first shipments I opened on my computer screen - was the returning belongings of a military member killed in action in Iraq. BLUEBARK flashes in huge red letters across the screen. I feel mad at myself for inward pity.
Life is blessed, even on days at Zero degrees. Even when driving likens sledding as a kid. Even when pouring Dippity Do into the oil hole thingy. Even when it’s not sunny, when I ain’t in Florida, or Hawaii, or on the field at the City Park.
Life is good all the time. It’s somehow just how we look at it.
So, rearranging thoughts of Tundra.. I find there’s all kinda fun shit right there within the word Tundra… art, ant, aunt, rat, drat, turn, ran, tan, turd, nut, dru.. All kindsa good thoughts.
May your frozen doors always open, and thanks for being here to help in reminding me, life, when outlook rearranged, ain’t so damn bad. Boogie til you die, but please don’t break a hip in doing so… Love, Victurd.
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