Argh! Never-ending Snow!

Day 100 . . .

. . . the snow continues to fall.  The wife swears that we have had snowy weather since Christmas.  I just swear.  The truth is that we have been on a winter tear for at least two weeks.  There have been sub-zero temperatures, snow . . . lots of snow . . . easily over two feet of snow since this weather jag has hit.  The snow just keeps piling up . . . and up . . . and up.  It feels like it has been snowing forever.

 

When it all began it was pretty.  It was pastoral.  A regular Currier and Ives painting.  Awe inspiring.  Now it is just . . . “Aw, shit!  More snow!”  Eventually we all must admit that “snow” is a four-letter word that takes its place among the most profane utterances when winter comes.  No longer is the snow pretty, pastoral, or even a beautiful Currier and Ives painting . . . it is a regretful sigh of defeat.  The snow is winning.

 

Though the snow has created its wintry chaos, we Montanans shouldn’t complain.  Snow has been needed . . . well, maybe not the snow but the moisture.  Montana needed the moisture as we had been moisture depleted for quite some time.  Parts of the state have been in drought.  The state has had some difficult fire seasons for a couple of years.  The snow and snowpack will go a long way in remedying that.  Our snowpack will be tremendous . . . way above normal at this rate.  The ski resorts are basking in snow drunkenness.  Montana needs it . . . we just didn’t need it all at once.  I guess Mother Nature got tired of all the whining and complaining.  You know what they say, “If Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”

 

As an introvert the snow hasn’t upset my world too much.  In fact, it basically reinforced the solitude that we introvert value so much.  It is quiet.  There are no people intruding.  It is perfect.  Though I revel in this idyllic paradise I know that this is not the case for my extravert family and friends.  What started as a peaceful interlude with the first snowflakes falling has become a living hell for extraverts.  The snow is killing them.

 

The snow is taking its toll on the extraverts.  They are becoming stir-crazy.  It is driving them nuts.  They are getting surly . . . grumpy . . . snippy.  They need people.  They need action and activity.  They need human contact.  They need engagement.  They need noise.  This is killing them.  Their routine has been disrupted.  The misery is real.  I know.  My wife is an extravert, and she is wallowing in despair.

 

My wife is not one for profane and descriptive outbursts.  This morning with great disdain in her voice she proclaimed, “Shit!  This is crap!”  The snow just kept falling.  She is a cheerful, bubbly optimist but the veneer cracked.  As far as she is concerned, enough is enough!  Mother Nature needs to tale a valium and get over it . . . crack another bottle of wine.  Needless to say, I’m taking precautions . . . at least until the snow abates and she can escape this frozen cell to freedom.  One person’s paradise is another person’s hell.  Trust me, I know.

 

As idyllic as it might be for me, I will admit that it ain’t perfect.  Nope . . . far from it.  With snow comes shoveling.  This year, lots of shoveling.  Most of the time I enjoy shoveling snow.  I appreciate the routine . . . it is almost a form of meditation . . . scoop, throw, scoop, throw.  I like seeing the end product of clean walks and driveway . . . a job well-done. That was ten inches of snow ago.  Now it is a PITA (Google it.)  The routine has changed . . . scoop, groan, swear, throw.  Repeat . . . over and over.  I have nowhere to put the snow.  The snow piles have gotten so massive and tall that I can’t throw the snow over.  Who knew that four-foot piles could be insurmountable!  The shoveling has sent shivers of profane grumpiness throughout my introverted paradise.

 

Our dogs have taken different approaches to the winter havoc.  Birdie—our Border Collie/Corgi mix—embraces the winter deluge.  She loves snow.  She relishes the cold and sits on the deck surveying her winter wonderland as temperatures dip below zero.  This is her domain . . . her world.  Our nine-pound miniature Dachshund hates it.  With snow well-over her head each trip out is an adventure in survival for Quinn.  Most excursions end mere yards from the deck with her hastily taking care of business.  Where Birdie has a double coat of hair for such weather, the mighty Quinn is practically hairless.

 

 Because the snow in the yard has reached epic portions of depth—two to three feet deep, I scoop out a maze around the yard with port areas for doggie business.  The problem is that the paths are constantly filling up with more snow.  When Quinn runs the maze, you can’t even see her because the snow is so deep.  Such is the curse of having short dogs.

 

Yup . . . it feels like it has been forever snowing . . . 100 days.  This too shall pass . . . about June.  Weather forecasters are calling for warmer weather by the end of the week with temperatures in the 30s and 40s.  With all the snow cover it will be more like the 20s and 30s—shorts weather in Montana.  In the meantime, I will tread softly in my introverted paradise, keep space between me and the extraverts, practice my swearing for the inevitable shoveling, and be thankful that we humans have the great capacity to forget.  Come mid-summer we will be complaining that it is too hot and it sure would be nice to have a little snow right about now.

 

I Egg-erate Not!

I am beginning to think that the hottest items on the black market are eggs.  I exaggerate not!  Since the start of February there have been two major heists of eggs.  In Pennsylvania there was a theft of 100,000 organic eggs from Pete & Garry’s Organics.  The estimated value of the eggs was approximately $40,000.  In Seattle at the Luna Park Café thieves absconded with 540 eggs along with bacon, ground beef, and blueberries valued at $780.  Sounds like the Seattle heisters were looking for breakfast!  Also, it is being reported that those states that border Mexico are beginning to see an influx of eggs being smuggled over the border.  Rumor has it that smuggled eggs have replaced the drug traffic as the number one issue for the present administration.

Whatever the case . . . eggs are a hot item, and the prices continue to escalate to new heights every day.  The price of eggs has gotten so high that it actually solved my problem of what to get my love for Valentine’s Day . . . eggs!  Nothing says “I love you” like a couple of dozen eggs.

 

I love my eggs.  I like them fried.  I like them scrambled.  I like them boiled. I like them deviled. I even like them dropped into chicken broth to make egg-drop soup. I like them mixed into my fried rice.  I love my eggs and consider them an essential part of my diet.  This egg crisis has me concerned.

 

So far, the wife has been able to find eggs to buy each week when grocery shopping . . . but she tells me it is getting more difficult.  She tells me that they are getting scarcer to the point that grocery stores are beginning to place a limit on the number of eggs that can be bought at one time.  I won’t be surprised that the locals that own chickens will probably start selling eggs out of the trunk of their cars soon at the grocery stores.  Probably put someone at the door going, “Psst! Looking for eggs?”  It won’t be long before fistfights break out in the egg aisle as folks joust for the last dozen on the shelf.

 

As I said, so far, the egg supply to the Keener homestead hasn’t been hampered by the eggs shortage . . . cost more, but they are still showing up on the menu.  Still . . . I’m concerned.  I have caught myself daydreaming about the lucrative egg market and maybe getting a few chickens for the backyard.  Might be able to pay off my mortgage with a couple of chickens.  Who knows!  All I know right now is that the price of eggs is skyrocketing, and the opportunity is knocking at the door.  As both the wife and I being avian fans, chickens in the backyard is not too appealing.  The dogs would love it and see them more as toys to be chased than something to line our pockets with.

 

Besides . . . I am not a risk taker.  Yes, I understand that there is usually a great reward for taking risks, but I am not a risk taker.  I take the safe way.  Besides, I would make a lousy criminal . . . I’d get caught. I read that if a person gets caught smuggling in eggs into the United States that there could be fines up to $10,000 on a large scale . . . or $300 on a small scale for an individual.  Even if the eggs are declared they will probably get confiscated and destroyed.  It won’t be long before states, counties, and towns start making laws concerning black market eggs . . . people will have to have licenses to sell them.  Right now, in Montana I’ll bet the Hutterites have already cornered all the egg markets above and below the table.  I would hate to have a late-night visitor show up at my door and break all my eggs . . . those Hutterites can be pretty persuasive.

 

People are up in arms right now about eggs . . . they are too expensive, and the price is continuing to rise daily.  Lots of people were counting on the president to come through with lowering the price of groceries, especially eggs.  Something that he hasn’t accomplished yet.  As much as I want to jump on the bandwagon and point a finger at the president . . . I can’t.  The egg crisis isn’t his fault.  Avian flu is the biggest culprit, but of course, out president doesn’t believe in pandemics even if they are avian in nature.  He blames the previous president and administration proclaiming it to be a conspiracy.  Whatever . . . the bottom line is that the price of eggs is skyrocketing, and they are becoming scarcer to find.  And his promise is still on the plate where the eggs should be.  He needs to remember that loose lips sink ships, and he has the loosest lips in the world.

 

I guess I shouldn’t be crying over broken eggs . . . I am certain there will be much more that is important to cry over in the next four years.  It is silly that we are lamenting over the price of eggs when so much of what is held sacred in our nation is being trampled over by a bunch of goons under the direction of the president and his administration.  We should put such effort into stopping the dismantling of our nation and its constitution.  Eggs should be the least of our worries.  I can live without eggs, but I don’t think I can live with the loss of our nation.

 

“Jesus Didn’t . . .

. . . have electricity either and he did just fine.”

The Orange One—President Donald Trump—promised extensive tariffs on Canada, China, and Mexico to curb illegal immigration and drug trafficking.  For our allies, Canada and Mexico, the tariff is 25%; for our adversary China it is a 10% tariff.  Canada’s prime minister, Justin Trudeau, responded to this threat by saying Canada might cut off energy to the United States.  If you were not aware, Canada is the largest source of energy imports to the United States.  This “tit for tat” could significantly affect both countries’ economy.  Prices will go up despite the promises of lowering prices of the president when he was elected.

 

But don’t worry!  White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt tells us not to panic.  In reassuring words she proclaimed, “They want you to panic, but President Trump wants you to remember Jesus didn’t have electricity either and he did just fine.”  Whoa!  What a relief.  If Jesus could handle it . . . well, so can we.

 

I must have missed that class while in seminary . . . you know the one . . . Jesus and electricity.  I wonder why the writers of the Gospels never mentioned it.   It didn’t show up on my ordination exam.  It just never occurred to me that Jesus never had electricity and that he did just fine.

 

If Jesus could do without electricity so can all of us who claim to be his followers.  WWJD?  Suck it up and shut up.  At least that is what the Donald would like.

 

How profane . . . bordering on the blasphemous.  Of course, Jesus did without electricity.  There was no such thing in Jesus’ time.  Maybe a little static electricity, but no electricity.  I know this because I have seen a picture of Jesus and his buddies at a dinner party.  I think they call the picture the Last Supper.  There were no electric lights or lamps or devices anywhere in the picture . . . nada!  Nothing!  We have the picture.  Myth has it that the last words that Jesus said at the dinner were: “All you guys who want in the picture get on this side of the table.”  The president’s argument is baloney . . . a cheap trick to sway those who can’t see the ploy to manipulate the faithful with pious nonsense.

 

If you buy that nonsense, then you are giving the green light to the more damning issue . . . which is tariffs.  Tariffs that will do more harm than they will ever help.  People are going to get whammed.  Life will get tougher for a lot of folks.  It won’t just be a few, it will be for many.  With that Jesus would not be okay. 

 

Tariffs are taxes imposed by a government of a country on imports or exports of goods.  Trump is imposing these taxes on imports . . . stuff we bring into our country and buy.  That is his target.  They look good on paper and in theory, but realistically they cause more negative problems and issues than they solve.  For example, a trade war and rising prices.  The Orange One’s desire to pound Canada, China, and Mexico into submission is going to hurt the majority of Americans—you and me.  Prices are going to go up . . . up . . . and away.

 

Like your fresh vegetables and fruit?  Most are imported from Mexico—especially avocados . . . and tequila.  Gone will be the days of free-flowing Margaritas.  The price of gas will go up.  Some say by as much as 70 cents a gallon over the current rising prices.  Why?  Because we get 70% of our oil imports from Canada and Mexico.  Cheap car parts—Mexico.  Cheap electronics and technology—China.  The bigger issue is that it would be difficult for the nation to replace all these goods imported under tariffs with domestic production.  This would create rising prices significantly.  Throw in inflation . . . well it could end up being a fiscal apocalypse.  It won’t be pretty, nor will it be good.

 

Despite the Orange One’s assurance of having “common sense” and that Jesus survived life without electricity, this is not going to turn out well.  Maybe Trump knows something we don’t know, after all he has “common sense” which he constantly reminds us that “a lot of people don’t.”  He knows better than everyone else.

 

Come on . . . really?  Jesus and electricity?  Why do we allow the Orange One and his cronies to keep insulting our intelligence and common sense?  We are better and smarter than that.  I heard through the grapevine that Jesus just rolled his eyes and laughed when he caught wind of this silliness.  Even he knows when he is being fed a crock of baloney.  He knows it.  We should know it too.  Wish more Americans would get it because if they did, we would be fine . . . just like Jesus.