The False Dawn of Spring

Its above freezing outside, the sun is shining and the wind has stood down, and I can hear Terry Francona talking above the smacking of baseballs on the TV behind me. I must not be taken in. There are potentially 10 more weeks in the snow window; 6 to 8 in the arctic blast frame.

Stay the course, stay the course.

I think we are going to have a white Christmas.

And I'm the poor sodding Grinch who has to shovel out the driveway for Santa....

Actually, It's quite breathtakingly pretty around here. This might be some of the most snow I've seen on the coast in 15 years in Maine, or that might be an element of denial. No matter: its easy to dig out (fine powder), I don't have to be anywhere in work drag for the next two weeks, and its nice to occasionally live in an Irving Berlin song. Witness:

The best part? They had a celebrity turn on the lights.

I am busily collecting gift suggestions for the "Stumped for Gifts? 08" Guide, but can only hope that you actively awaiting shopping ideas from yours truly have invested in a tree like this one:


Festive tree an 'insult' to town
My old housemate Mr. Jones and myself once had a similar tree. We 'found' it in a small wood and only selected it as it had two trunks- one each- so that we could both decorate it in our own style. In place of baubles we used a lot of darts flights strung on paper clips, I recall.

Why is a Down East Divorce Like a Tornado?

...In both situations you lose the trailer.

Ripped from the headlines of today's local paper:

Rockland man rescued after being pinned under mobile home

He'd have been better off with an igloo, which would have been pretty easy to come by in these parts this month. I don't know which is more distressing: the way-too-early cumulative mountains of snow (even for Old Timey Maine) or the blizzard of idiots proclaiming smugly, "So much for this global warming, ayuh!"

Because as we all know, a life in small town Maine after getting a degree from the school of hard knocks qualifies one as an expert climatologist, more capable of pronouncing on global environmental trends than an army of dedicated scientists.

Nerd Alert! Nerd Alert!

(snuffle) Wow- December 16th and all this snow already? Nobody told me I'd moved to Hoth! (chokes on yoohoo, dribbles down acrylic shirt).

Back Home

Back in Maine a few days and already facing the prospect of 8 to 14 inches of snow after a wicked cold weekend.

Secretly I quite like it, but don't let anyone know.

As you can imagine things are hectic and so this post is perforce short. But I thought I would at least share a few photos from Florida as an interim measure.

Idiot boy tries to teach daughter to swim

Roast turkey on the beach

Alligator!

The Fruitville Chronicles, Day 9

Six months ago I didn't think I'd be sitting in shorts and t-shirt on Thanksgiving morning having had grits for breakfast. Que sera, sera.

Today is the first day of our trip when we aren't off exploring in the specially rigged Chevy Astro van. A lawn chair has been bungeed in the back so one of us can ride tail-gunner fashion, as there are more passengers than there are seats. As with all families, we take a distinct pride in adapting existing resources when visiting rather than shelling out for a rental. "Shoot- there's three cars between the fifteen of us: y'all can fit!" is our merry refrain (y'alls supplied by the southern contingent). We have been riding in the specially rigged Astro through some of Sarastoa's more expensive neighborhoods, alternating between ogling the ostentation and figuring how many of those floor-to-ceiling windows will blow out in the next hurricane. At first glance we must look like a van load of undocumented Guatemalan landscaping laborers: the surprised looks we get when we pile out brandishing cameras instead of weed whackers are superb.

We haven't just been emulating Robin Leach, however. We are half way through checking out all the attractions Sarasota has to offer, and so I thought I'd offer up a handy cut-out-and-keep guide to the must-sees we have taken in so far:

Things to do in the Greater Sarasota area (a guide by W. Weasel)
Siesta Key Beach: famous for its sand with the consistency of sugar which doesn't get hot under foot no matter how fierce the sun, Siesta Key's public beach is the perfect spot for that classic Thanksgiving time tradition, turkey hunting. We aren't talking about the noble birds of course, but rather the human phenomenon of barrel-bellied middle aged men sun-cooked to the color of an Etruscan pot and slathered with some sort of vile oil. These men look like they have either been basted or shellacked, and for an alabaster freak like myself it is quite disconcerting. I can't figure out why the look is so popular- maybe its how they attract their Thai mail order brides, turning up in their home village looking like something that could feed the whole extended family should things go badly and thus winning the matriarch's approval. I do believe some of these chaps have Coastguard banning orders forbidding them to swim, lest their crispy skin and oily outer layer cause an environmental holocaust.

St Armand's Key Circle: This is a popular shopping district, anchored by the Columbia Cuban restaurant ("since 1905"). As you might expect for an area popular with tourists and senior citizens, the shops generally cater to the "retired color-blind Baptist minister and his secretly rum-nipping wife" set, with a sea of choices for the lover of pastel citrus palette prince of wales check sports coats and burn-victim pattern golf sweaters. Country Mouse and I were able to find some gems among the -ahem- brighter clothing choices. However having packed every garment Scout owns to bring with us and thus not having any space in the suitcases we had to content ourselves with window shopping.

Venice Beach (FL): Unlike Venice Beach (CA), there are no nutcases bench pressing roller-blading Baywatch extras. Instead there is just a stunning beach, a grand fishing pier, Sharky's Restaurant, and a sobering display of jaws from tiger- and black-tipped sharks caught off the pier that put me right off going for a swim.

The Mote Aquarium: Out on Lido Key, past the Salty Dog, sits the Mote Aquarium. Its really cool, does incredible research, and has a pair of resident dolphins. Scout loved this place more than anywhere we have been so far- apparently, 6 month-olds can be rendered insensible with glee by the sight of clown fish swimming in an enormous tank. Good to know, for future reference. The next time she's fussy I'm taking her to loiter in the lobby of Rockland's only Thai restaurant so we can stare at the fish tank.

The dolphins live at the aquarium due to chronic health conditions that preclude their release into the wild: the Mote also tends to sick turtles, manatees, small whales, and other dolphins before returning them to their natural habitats. This leads to a memorable docent speech, in which he lists the various ailments these sea creatures present to the vets: "We had a pilot whale with sunburn. A spinner dolphin with chronic fatigue syndrome. A myopic minke. A leatherback turtle with crabs. A manatee with the shits. A bi-polar moray eel..."

The Ringling Museum of Art, Circus Museum, and Mansion: John Ringling, circus master and entrepreneurial investor, put Sarasota on the map. He made a colossal fortune (not from 25c circus tickets alas, but from oil leases on land he owned in Oklahoma) and with his wife Mable spent much of their lives trying to acquire the trappings of American aristocracy, even going as far as buying whole rooms from the Astor mansion in New York and reassembling them in Florida. They were never accepted by high society, and predeceased by Mable John died broke, having been all-but wiped out by the 1929 Wall Street crash. How do the house and grounds look? Exactly as one would expect the house of a carnie who came into money would look. I think that says it all.

The art museum is great for lovers of European art from the 1500s to the 1700s. Unfortunately, I am not one of them. The Defenestration of St John the Baptist by plump topless ladies egged on by satyrs- eh, seen one like that, you've seen them all. The best part of the museum was far and away the tall wall that allowed me to crouch down and pose Scout like Mussolini giving a speech from a reviewing stand- photos to follow upon our return.

The circus museum is something else. I hate clowns, but even I was impressed, especially by the miniature circus that one man spent 20 hours a week for 50 years building before donating it to the museum. Such lunacy rarely gets recognized in this day and age, and I am glad that the Ringling went so far as to build a pavilion to house the output of this peculiar genius. Also impressive was the enclosure for the two clowns with chronic medical conditions that preclude their release into the wild. They also treat other clowns there for a variety of ailments and you can check out the hospital cages. Even behind bars and heavily sedated you can still sense the terrible power and palpable evil of these smiling killers: it is a salutatory reminder to treat these grease painted carnivores with a healthy respect at all times.

My time with you today draws to a close: no doubt I shall have more to report soon. A Happy Thanksgiving to my American visitors, and to the rest of you- back to work, stop wasting your employer's Internet connection reading this drivel.

The Fruitville Chronicles, Day 7

Much like George Lucas I figured I would start my story cycle half way through. It made him millions, after all, and what's good enough for the bearded killer of movie dialogue is good enough for me. Let us begin.

Tuesday November the whatever finds your correspondent in Florida, a week in to his two week sojourn in the sunshine state. Thanks to the generosity of mother-in-law, her consort, and said consort's extended native Floridian family the Weasel Unit has been luxuriating in a borrowed bungalow taking in the sites as well as a modest amount of beer (not Scout- she has been sticking to milk).

The house comes with a beautiful tile swimming pool which is equipped with a woefully underpowered heating unit. Of course, being residents of Maine the general expectations of the Florida relatives have been that we will jump in the pool even if we have to chip ice off the surface. So with an air temperature of 80 degrees and a water temperature of 68 degrees we have been taking turns amazing the locals with our polar bear impressions. "Its no colder than Loonlips Lake in August" we say through gritted teeth with exaggerated New England cadences as we shiver through a few lengths of the pool. What the relatives miss are the early morning screams as the Yankee drive to puritan self-mortification hits chilly chlorinated water for a few chest constricting lengths of unvarnished agony.

We have a grapefruit tree (on its last legs) and an orange tree with fruit that is just coming ripe. Scout has been helping consort Les pick the oranges, extending his reach by 26 inches and employing her surprisingly strong grip to good effect. Cousin Gary brought by a sack of avocados from his daughter's house and we are eagerly awaiting their ripening. We have made many trips to the so-called "Third World" Publix (we aren't exploring the racial implications of that nickname in the interest of preserving the family dynamic).

We have split our time between cultural pursuits, getting sand between our toes, and eating fried seafood in a variety of guises (please don't batter anything that swims for me for a while, please, please). I imagine I will provide details in future dispatches.

I could write much more but I hear relatives filing in to the lanai and beer bottles clinking in the fridge door. Tonight we are grilling: a little chicken, a little salmon, and baked potatoes. I'd better go grab my plate and get in line for the buffet.

Toodle pip,
Weasel

National Toboggan Championships, Day Two

After the day's less than optimal run, Team Allen's Coffee Dandies regrouped over pizza last night to come up with some winning strategy for the second qualifying run. It was agreed that the forced dismount in the chute house had not allowed us to become settled on the toboggan, hence the various collisions with the wall on the way down (or "sustained contact with the wall" as Brian and Mike experienced). Also, it was decided that we would jettison the cold water surfboard wax in favour of Pledge furniture polish for the bottom of the sled.

Today's runs began a full four hours earlier, at 9am, and it was a weary team that assembled at Mike's for the journey over to the Snow Bowl. With our usual lollygagging upon arrival we had to respond at a brisk trot to the last call for four person teams or risk disqualification. A further internal team dispute about the length of the toboggan we planned to use (Rick correctly pointed out that his head would be in contact with the ice all the way down if we opted for the 8 footer over the 12 footer) meant that the only ride waiting for us at the Toboggan Shack was the dog of a sled we had used the day before. As Brian observed, it had a raised grain on the bottom that would work like a snow tire. Oh well- you dance with who brung ya, or something like that.

Into the chute and taking no chances, we collectively sat/lay stiff as a board and visualised not touching the sides. The result? A second run time of 9.19- slower than yesterday's disaster and not good enough to see us into the finals.

There's always next year...

The Dandies, in the chute...

...And after a spectacular crash finish, worth of "Sports Bloopers".

Captain Mike and our manager Kristin, who took magnificent care of her husband's stable of top-notch athletes all weekend (backpack is full of donuts)

The shameful tale of the tape

This dude was so proud of his injury...

Mike, less proud of his.

Possibly the best dressed team on the hill

This guy took pity on us back in the parking lot. He could obviously see we were bumming over our slowwwwwwwwww times, so he came and comforted us. Either that or he was sniffing around for a free cup of our coffee and a donut.
As we left today, slinking off before the finals began, there was already to talk as to what we needed to do to crack the top 75 in 2008. Watch this space: the Dandie's ain't done yet.....

National Toboggan Championships, Day One, Part One

Another beautiful day in coastal Maine, and teams from all over New England gathered at the Camden Snow Bowl for the first qualifying runs of the National Toboggan Championships. The lightweight two-person and middleweight three-person runners went first, which left us heavyweight four-person crews to drill in the parking lot and pose for photos:

Why real estate is so expensive in these parts

The chute

3/4 of our team with the Trunk Monkey

The controversial rope (more on this later)

Mentally running the chute

The Allen's Coffee Dandies
Calamity struck on our first run: we we forced to shed our tensioning ropes while in the chute house, and a hurried remount of the toboggan meant that we were off center and not settled and tilted left when we hit the chute. As a consequence Mike and Brian rode the wall all the way down (melting Brian's pants: we in the back were wondering what the smell was) and I bounced off the chute myself on a couple of occasions. Even so, we managed a 9.11 second run- without the disasterous wall bumping we would have been up the leader board. No matter: tomorrow's run will be better and the judges take the best of both times, not a combined, so we are still in shooting distance of the finals. Wish us luck. Go fightin' 358th!

The Shite Stuff

Tomorrow afternoon I will step out onto the platform along with my "Allen's Coffee Dandies" teammates Mike, Rick, and Brian (on the left); settle into our mighty ride; give a hearty thumbs up to the operator; and thunder down the ice chute into National Toboggan Championship legend.

If you happen to be in the vicinity of the Camden (Maine) Snow Bowl tomorrow or Sunday, four-person runs start at 1pm Saturday with the second runs starting at 9am Sunday. If the Dandies crack the top 75, our four person finals will be on Sunday afternoon. We would appreciate your cheers, if only to intimidate the judges into giving us the "most popular" prize. Feel free to bring a cowbell.

Allen's Coffee Dandies: faster than a speeding Class E naturally aspirated gas engine racing lobster boat, by golly.

Normal Service Restored

Dear whiny Chargers management (restricting ticket sales to folks with SoCal addresses? Come on) fans (not only did your team lose, but your Republican city got smacked by a place that permits gay marriage) and players (especially you, Tomlinson): sit down, shut up.
Just when this winter seemed to be completely screwed up, the New England Patriots pulled off one of their patented last minute victory-by-field-goal games yesterday to move a step closer to the Super Bowl. As if by magic the temperature up here in Maine plummeted and we are now receiving a hearty dose of snow and sleet.

Is Bill Belichick the antidote to global warming?