Life on the Frozen Tundra

Since the end of the holiday break and the return of the eldest man-child to college, I have fallen into a deep energy and money conserving mode. I have decided to work with what I have and have been keeping a journal of my efforts over the last month.

Day One

Oh, the sadness. In conjunction with the holidays being over, my parents heading off to Florida for the winter, the return of children to school, early morning risings, and short, cold, dark days, I have sunken into despair. I realize that I must overcome this by getting myself back into a productive routine focusing on the future and new goals. With Alex now off to college for the last five months, I realize that it is no longer necessary to keep three refrigerators and a stand-alone freezer stocked to the gills with nourishment for him and his brother (mostly him, however). This causes me to lose my elite status at Kroger and Schwans. It also prompts us to realize that it's time to get rid of the refrigerator in the garage. The fridge in the basement really goes unused and the standalone freezer definitely needs to be defrosted. There's so much ice forming on the top of the shelves, it's starting to look like a cave with some hefty stalactites hanging down.

Day Four

It has been several days now since the arctic blast has settled over the land and I find myself not leaving the house for a week now. Why should I? It's too cold and I realize that in consolidating refrigerators, we really have LOTS of food in this house that needs to be consumed. I realize that I have fallen into the habit of stocking up, but not depleting. Therefore, I have decided to use up what we have in the pantry, refrigerators and freezers before doing any major grocery shopping again. I have informed the men of the house of this decision, and they seem to be on board. This also works out well with me not wanting to leave the house.

The cold, darkness of winter (and that ridiculous December DTE bill) has found me leaving blinds closed to keep the house insulated and lights being used down to a mininum. The husband is getting irritated with me because I keep turning off lights that he is using. Sorry! I have also fallen into a routine of putting on my jammies by 7 p.m. and wanting to spend the evening upstairs in our cozy, cozy room watching TV. Ed has an easy chair and ottoman that he can sit in and read. My mantra for the month has been "I love my bed." Besides, this means we can turn the thermostat down and lights off downstairs, hours earlier!

Day Seven

In an effort to maintain some sanity, we have decided to force ourselves to go out and socialize with friends. We brave the elements and head to the varsity basketball game one night and the hockey game the next. We also visit with friends on their bowling night. I realize that it was fun to interact with real live people and think "we must do this again." However, I can't deny that while out, all I can do is dream of my down comforter calling my name. I have also picked up a bad habit of using the heating pad on my back and shoulders because it feels so good. Initially, Ed dragged it out to help soothe his back, which was on the edge of going out. However, after he offered it to me one day, there was no turning back. Note to self: must break this addiction, the heating pad electricity is offsetting the other attempts at conservation.

Day Twelve

Met friends for coffee this morning, thanks to a mini warm-up. The challenge of preparing meals with existing foods in the freezer, fridge and pantry is going rather well. I find myself thrilled beyond belief when I get to consolidate and throw out another box. I warned the husband, however, that he may come home one day and discover that we are having Pop Tarts and hot sauce for dinner as the selections dwindle. His reply was "I would love that!" He would make such a great pioneer. Then I realize that I would too, if there was heat, a little bit of electricity (for my heating pad), pillow-top beds, and down comforters.

Day Fifteen

The college boy has returned home for the weekend. Not really to see us, however, he does manage to make time to join us for dinner (free food). He comments on how long my hair has gotten, and I remind him "I just saw you two weeks ago. How much longer could it be?"

This is a holiday weekend, thanks to the great Martin Luther King, Jr. and the U.S. government for wanting to celebrate his birthday on a Monday instead of the actual day. I squeal with delight knowing this means "no alarm clocks." I know, I know. Shame on me for not honoring a special man in a more meaningful way. However, I like to think I was keeping his "I have a dream" speech close at heart and wanted to experience it in the literal sense.

Day Twenty One

Last night we ventured out to our monthly euchre gathering. Growing weary of "creative meals" I was greatly looking forward to some delicious food and drink with friends. Although, I do not find myself growing weary of curling up with a great New York Times crossword puzzle and my DVR, I know it is essential to reconnect with mankind. One of the couples is preparing to leave on a Caribbean cruise. I secretly find myself loathing mankind.

Cameron had a friend over to keep him company. I started running around the house turning on lights and opening a blind or two so his mother wouldn't think we're so morose and weird with our house all closed up and dark.

Being out the previous evening, and with nothing on the calendar (until 6 p.m.), finds us in our pajamas all day. Except for when Chuckles calls to see if we'll be home so he can return our borrowed card table and chairs. I pretend to sound perky and dressed. I mention that there is "no rush in getting them back" however, he doesn't go for it. With Ed off to pick up Cam from baseball conditioning, I am forced to get out from under the covers. Oh, the humanity.

Later on in the evening, we venture out to Ed's company party. It is a long drive, but I am anxious to meet his new friends and coworkers. The younger child has been left at home alone and is in the midst of preparing for mid-term exams. I promise him I will bring him a cannoli. He is thrilled. When I return with two, he is over the moon.

Day Twenty Two

Three weeks into our journey, I decide it's time to venture south to Krogerland to replenish our dwindling food and supplies. Only perishables will be bought--fruits, vegetables, milk, and perhaps SweetTart jelly beans if they are available. However, they are not--only stupid Valentine's Day candy is out along with a small selection of Cadbury Egg crap. I fear I will have to wait at least another few weeks before the arrival of my beloved jelly beans.

Day Twenty Five

Mid-term exams are upon us (well, technically they are upon Cameron, not us). He is busy studying hard. For whatever reason, there are only 1/2 days of school during midterms, and no school on Friday. Apparently, they are too exhausted to complete a full day of school. The morning is spent laboring over exams while the afternoon is devoted to napping and the evening to studying. He is his mother's child.

The sun came out today and I felt it was a special enough occasion to open the blinds for the cat. He thanked me appropriately by begging for some of my ham sandwich and drinking out of my water cup. He is so unclear on the concept of how to express gratitude. We continue to work on those behavioral issues. So far (after seven years), no luck.

I must admit that this cleansing of the pantry is very, well, cleansing! It has really forced me to think about some of the crap that I purchase--like instant maple/brown sugar oatmeal. I tried to eat it, but it was horrible. In all honesty, we really have had some decent meals and it has forced us to try different things. However, the longer we go, the more challenging it becomes. For instance, tomorrow we are having popsicles for breakfast.

Theres No Crying in Baseball!

As my boys would say "Want me to call it?"

"Call what?" I reply.

"The waaaaaaahmbulance!" they say, smirking because they think, for whatever reason, that I am whining about something and feeling sorry for myself.

So today I'm taking a page out of their book. Suck it up, Mark McGwire and quit your crying, you big baseball baby. You made the choice to consciously take steroids for 10 years, and now you wanna boo-hoo about it during interviews? If you're going to come clean about cheating, then man-up and come clean as to why you cheated and how it influenced your game.

To say that you only took steroids to help you get healthy from injuries and that it didn't help you get stronger, bigger, and hit harder or influence your game in any way is like saying the parts they put in the bionic man were only to help him walk again and they really had no effect on his ability to jump higher, run faster, and create the spinoff "The Bionic Woman." Preposterous!

July like Olympic athletes Ben Johnson and Marion Jones, who were stripped of medals and records after it was discovered they took performance-enhancing drugs, you should be stripped of your achievements as well. To allow you to be in the Baseball Hall of Fame would be like allowing Tiger Woods into the husband-of-the-year hall of fame. You cheated. Don't you know, cheaters never prosper? Well, they do for a while, like Bernie Madoff, but in the end they get what they deserve.

It's really disheartening to see how many athletes are giving up their integrity for a deal with the devil. Drugs, gambling, extra-marital affairs. I realize they are not perfect, but don't you think for the amount of credit they are given, money they earn, and kids they influence that they should at least try a little harder? Perhaps that is the problem. They are given too much money, too much credit, and too much influence. Somehow, we forget that they are human, just like us. But worst of all, THEY forget that they are human, just like us.

Let Me Be Brief

The eyes of the world are on Detroit as the arraignment of the Christmas Day terrorist attacker gets underway. As we all know by now, the young Nigerian attempted to blow up Northwest flight 253 en route to Detroit by packing chemicals into his underwear that would be used to set off an explosion. He is being indicted on charges that include using "weapons of mass destruction" and attempted murder. In short, he had WMDs in his BVDs. Thus, he has been dubbed the "Underwear Bomber."

From a practical perspective, I implore the media, can we PLEASE call him something other than the "Underwear Bomber?" I understand, the guy from a couple of years ago became known as the "Shoe Bomber" but the "Underwear Bomber" and photos of his blown out underwear in the paper and on the news keep conjuring up images of dirty underwear and burnt testicles that I don't want to think about. How about the "Boxer Bomber" or "Grundy Grenader?" Somehow, those undergarment terms don't sound as disgusting.

What's in a name? Everything. After all, wasn't there a conscious effort to change the name of the Swine Flu to the H1N1 Flu because it was giving pigs and the pork industry a bad rap? Can you imagine when word got out that pictures of this guy's underwear were being published for all the world to see? I'm sure the people at Hanes and Fruit of the Loom were holding their breath and saying "Please, please, please....don't let it be one of ours." What a marketing nightmare that would be to have to recover from. Yeah, it would be free publicity, but certainly nothing like the free publicity the outer wear company is receiving from using President Obama's photo in their Times Square advertisement. They say there is no such thing as bad publicity, but I think Tiger Woods and the boxer brand name of the "Underwear Bomber" would beg to differ.

Global Warming? Hah!

It's raining reptiles! I read that it's so cold in Florida, iguanas are falling out of the trees. Apparently, the frigid temperatures are causing the cold-blooded reptiles to become immobilized and lose their grip on the trees. To see these comatose chameleons, click here.

The Secret to Friendliness and Fun

Did you ever notice while out on the water in a boat, fishing, drifting, tubing, cruising, how friendly everyone is? Every boatload of strangers that passes by you waves, says "hello", tips their cap, smiles, or perhaps even gives you the right of way? People being friendly, considerate, and easy going. Exchanging simple pleasantries..."how's it going?.....beautiful day, huh?....catchin' anything?"

Now, can you imagine transferring that image and attitude to people as they drive in their cars (especially in the winter), rather than in their boats in the summer? I don't think we'd even know how to react. It's interesting to note how different, yet the same, the two really are. Driving a car is a lot of "hurry up and wait" while driving a boat is more like "hurry up or wait....whatever you want....your choice."

Of course, why wouldn't you be pleasant and cheerful while out relaxing in a boat, feeling the warm sunshine on your body, drinking a beer, and keeping cool thanks to the mist of water that occasionally spritzes up in your face? The tropical smell of suntan lotion, the sounds of motors whirring and water splashing, music playing and people laughing. For most people, spending time on the water is an opportunity to get away from it all and relax. This makes us happy and friendly.

Somehow, even though this IS the Motor City, the allure of being in your car just isn't the same. Chances are, you are not doing it as a form of relaxation. You are probably going to work, school, or an unpleasant doctor or dentist appointment, or you ARE working, because you make your living by driving.

You may be running errands, going grocery shopping, picking up the dry cleaning or picking up your kid. Perhaps you're on your way to go Christmas shopping, or returning Christmas gifts. You're fighting traffic, following drivers who aren't paying attention to what they should be doing because they are too busy yapping on their cell phone, eating their lunch, or worse yet, texting.

When you're driving in your car, you're generally doing it with a "let's get down to business" attitude. I got stuff to do, I want to get there, do it, and get back in a timely manner. I have no interest in "cruising" around town and being friendly. As the commercial says "get in, get out, get on with your life."

It is fun to think about what it would be like if we could act like "boat" people while in our cars. Of course, this behavior wouldn't come easy and naturally like it does while at sea. It would take some real practice and work.

Can you imagine, sitting at a traffic light and the guy in the lane next to you or across the intersection from you turns to you and waves and smiles and raises his travel mug to you in a toast? You would be astounded and creeped out all at the same time. And yet, when boats pass each other this kind of activity happens all the time.

Perhaps, while you're filling up your gas tank, someone engages in conversation and asks "How's it going?" and all you can do is think to yourself "Do I know you?" Of course, if you were filling up your tank at the local marina, you'd be chatting away with the fellow boater next to you talking about the weather, the fishing conditions, or the ins and out of the waterways. You don't really experience much idle chatter at the gas pumps when filling up your car, like "Hey, about that Ford Rd. Whew, that is one tough roadway to navigate." Once again, you'd be thinking to yourself "Yeah, whatever dude. You're weird, quit talking to me. I don't have time for talking."

Water and sunshine, they have a magical effect on the human psyche, don't they? You know what else has a magical effect (beside chocolate!)? Music. I've said it before, that music has the ability to transport us to a special place and time in our memories, whether they are happy, sad, or bittersweet. Over the holidays, while up north with friends, we happened upon the movie "The Sound of Music." When Alex was little, that was one of his favorite movies, and even though he probably wouldn't admit it, I think he enjoyed watching parts of it again while he played cards with his manly snowboarding buddies. I know I enjoyed it, even though now I have to sing "I am 16 going on 49...." that part was a little depressing. I can remember my parents taking us kids to see that movie at the Mai Kai theater and it was a big deal for me.

Music can create such a communal attitude among people as well. I realized that when I happened to catch a snippet of something on Oprah this week. It was a repeat episode that was featuring some highlights and favorite moments of Oprah's and one of them was from her 24th season opener this past September. I really don't watch Oprah on a regular basis, however, I don't know how I could not have seen or heard about this event on TV, the web, in the paper, in a magazine, or via an email, because it was pretty cool.

What happened was, she had the Black Eyed Peas on to perform in concert in the streets of downtown Chicago, and they and her producers surprised her with a mob flash dance of over 20,000 people! If you're unfamiliar with the term, a mob flash dance is when a large number of people perform the same dance moves to a song, like a massive music video, but it happens rather subtly and unassumingly. I have seen one video via an email of people doing a mob flash dance in a train station. It's fun to watch the reaction of those who are not in on the dance and seeing their faces when they suddenly realize that something magical is going on around them.

As I watched the clip, I didn't know what was going to happen. So, being totally clueless was part of the fun. As the BEP's started to sing "I Gotta Feeling" and do their thing, I noticed (like Oprah had noticed) that there was this one chick in blue up at the very front of the stage dancing like a mad woman. Everyone around her was just standing there while she was going to town. At first, I thought "Wow. I guess she's really into it." It hadn't really dawned on me yet that no one else was dancing. Then, little by little, more groups of people started to join her in the same dance moves starting at the front of the group and moving all the way back down the multiple city blocks they engulfed. Twenty-some thousand people all doing the same moves in unison. It was sooooo cool! And, what was really fun to watch was Oprah's reaction as she realized something special was happening, all without her prior knowledge. She looked like a little kid on Christmas morning jumping up and down for joy because she just received a pony. It was fun! Then, watching the faces of the people who had just completed the dance and their sense of satisfaction of surprising her with this incredible gift was equally fun.

When they were done playing the clip, she spoke to the producer/organizer of the flash mob dance and he talked about how something magical happens when people dance, and I thought "he's right". Whether you are at a Jimmy Buffet concert acting out "Fins", a wedding doing the YMCA or the chicken, or at a country bar doing a line dance. There is something fun about dancing with strangers in a group. Somehow, they become a little less strange to you.

Some people who actually participated in the flash mob dance were in the audience and they talked about the experience. One gal said people were friendly, even though it was crowded and elbows were flying here and there, and in one portion of the dance each dancer placed their hand on the sweaty back of the person next to them as part of the routine and it was a real moment of "community" for her. She lamented that if people could be like that all the time, there'd be no fighting.

I guess this is why Ellen Degeneres always dances at the opening of her show because it makes her feel good and it's fun. I guess this is why the hit show "Glee" has become so popular, because people break out into song and dance and it's fun. And, I guess that's why we're always suckers for the macarena or the chicken dance at wedding receptions, because it's fun. For more fun, click here to see the Oprah flash dance. It will make you smile. You know why? Because it's fun!