Ode to How Much I Hate Winter

Granted, I live in St. George, Utah. As far as winter-time climates go, I couldn’t have it better. Here in my beloved St. George, I haven’t once been chilled to my inner core, haven’t had to entertain the thought of scraping my windshield even once, I mean — really. As far as Winter’s go, I have it good. And by good, I mean Real Good. By good, I mean, This Is Indeed The Place. In fact, I have it as good as I could possibly have it without living in an area even more saturated with Seniors. I haven't even worn a jacket today, I mean, really, we've had days here lately where it's down-right balmy. I'm serious.

But that won’t stop me from complaining, because I still hate Winter.

I hate the dryness. My hands get so dry that they crack and peel and just HURT. [And I have an OFFICE JOB.] And my skin gets dry too, dry and itchy. And I’m the Lotion Queen, really I am. But the itchiness!

Which leads to the static! The static everywhere! In my hair and my clothes (me being a staunch fabric-softener sheet user and everything) and it just makes me want to claw at things.

And everything dies! The trees are all bare and all the lawns are yellow and it’s very unfriendly-looking. The landscape becomes desolate and uninviting and just kind of depressing. All things green go away and you can see clear through the cemetery.

And then as a result of all this - all I can think of is Spring. And Summer. And pool time. And searing heat. And blooming things. And baseball being played and getting off of work with the sun still being up for a while ----

Oh that’s a BIG ONE. In Winter, I don’t even need to open my drapes because I it’s dark when I leave for work and it’s dark again when I return home. THAT is just irritating. And again - a bit depressing. A lot depressing if you let it.

And all the clothes!!!!! I'm not a nudist by any means but too many layers are involved in wintertime. The jackets and coats and sweaters and the socks!

Ok that’s all. I know it’s not an ode. I know it’s just me venting my Winter-hate and I know that I need to get a real problem, that I have no possible room to gripe. But that doesn’t stop me .

I feel better.

Ode to Sandals

Sandals, thy duty is sacred.
With reverence I give you my deepest gratitude.
Thou allowest the function and comfort of a foot covering to my lower extremities without any fabric covering.
Thou maintains a firm barrier between my feet and the ground - the rough pavement, the expansive unknown of commercial floor coverings everywhere, my own kitchen floor.

Thou allowest my feet to not be swathed in the suffocating confines of a sock.
A sock that would smother and restrain,
a sock that would leave remnants of its fibers between my toes,
a sock that might leave my feet warm and moist,
a sock that on occasion would permit a mark be left on my calf that sometimes itches.
A sock whose partner can frequently disappear.
A sock that, frankly, gives me displeasure to no end.
You save me from the sock, dear sandal.

You allow my feet to breathe and be free,
for my OPI’d toes to see the sun and all the places I go.

And you’re so basic dear sandals,
full of ease and simplicity.
You do not slow me down in the morning when I’m late for work,
unlike thy evil counterpart whose thick fibers must have their own
sit-down and put-on session.
(Not to mention the inevitable tying or buckling or whatever else may come after the fibrous confines are placed).

Sandals, thou manifesteth thyself to me in many unique forms-
rubber and leather, slide and straps, Birkenstock and flip-flop
and all variations between.
Thou ist diverse and multi-functional.

Thou allowest the bare minimum between my toes and the world,
only enough strappage to remain present.
Thou would never seek to repress or enclose my footly appendages,
thou surrounds them only with love.

I love thee dear sandals.

As the winter descends, St. Georgey and mild though it may be,
I appreciate you more and more.
We’ve been through a lot, dear sandals.
I wore thee to Lake Tahoe in the wintry frigid month of February.
In the Canandian wild in Autumn.
In many a blustery Cedar City day.
I have a hard time leaving you home,
regardless of the weather.
Forgive me for the cold temperatures I demand you endure.

And never, ever, dear sandals, will I bring thee the injustice of being paired with socks.
Thou needest never fear, I would NOT do that to you.
I wouldn’t do it to me.
I wouldn’t do it to humanity.
Thou deserves so much better.
Thou deserves only the fresh air and the pedicured feet.

And all of my love and deepest appreciation,
dear, dearest sandals.

Ode to Duke

Oh man Duke, where do I even start.

You are one-of-a-kind.
And by one-of-a-kind I mean completely bizarre and strange, sometimes seeming to not have a single thought in your head.
One-of-a-kind in that you came from Meadow, Utah, complete with built-in hernia and extra toe.
And no, I’m not making that up.
One-of-a-kind in that you’re full-grown and yet quite small for a Shih-Tzu; you’re about half the size of your brother-from-another-mother Biff.

But you don’t let your runt-like size hold you back. Oh, no.
Quite the contrary, Duke.
Size is a non-issue for you.
You’re fearless.
Ten feet tall and bullet-proof as Travis Tritt would sing.
You sit, perched upon the couch, your entire world out the two living room windows.
You give a low growl at the slightest of movements,
tilt your head at the slightest of noise,
and bug your eyes out incredulously at the things that dare come by your throne.
You go berserk when any kind of moving thing gets remotely close to the house.
You bark and bark, you bark with all your heart,
you bark with the intensity of everything you are.
And given the opportunity, nothing pleases you more than to be able to chase these things you see.
And as I’ve mentioned, you’re not afraid.
Be it birds, a friendly passer-by, big neighbor dogs, cattle, horses, four-wheelers, you take off at a speed we can only laugh at because you look SO cute when you run so fast, your legs kicking out to the side as you do.
But you seek no vengeance from these would-be predators;
all you really want is to give them a good sniffing-over.

Duke sometimes you don’t seem to be the smartest of dogs,
when you dig and dig and dig on the bed,
burrowing yourself as deep as you can inside its covers,
finally taking a break and letting out a big sigh,
we’re reminded that there’s not so much going on upstairs.
But oh are we wrong by thinking that because we’ve also seen the focus you have when it comes to procuring any extraneous food items.
From anywhere in the house, you can sense when someone enters the kitchen and immediately take off to stalk that person.
You hunt the dishwasher while it’s being loaded.
You sit below the table during dinner with your chin resting on the legs of the table, your eyes methodically scanning its circumference for any possible droppage.
If anyone anywhere in the house is eating a bowl of ice cream, you stare intently at each and every bite, tail wagging furiously all the while.

And speaking of chin resting, you sure have a heavy head Duke.
You seek out any and all opportunities to rest your head;
holding it up sometimes must seem so laborious.

But there’s a lot you do in the day, dear Duke.
You keep your dear brother Biff company.
You create Milk-Bone and Scooby Snack opportunities for yourself.
You’re the watchman of the house.
You have lots of barking to do,
lots of playing and running with Biff when he has the energy,
lots of circles to run round when you’re dying to go outside,
lots of naps to take with whoever you can find,
lots of digging on the beds to do.

And Duke you’re so good to us.
You don’t have a mean bone in your body.
We pick you up and hold you tight and you let us, even though it’s not your thing.
You roam in the house to wherever we are and that’s where you want to be.
Even if you’re just laying on the floor, you’re laying on the floor with us.
You’re definitely a ‘people person.’
You love the nights and the weekends when there’s usually more people around and more things going on.
You love to be part of the action.

Your stretches when you first wake up are among the cutest we’ve ever seen, Duke
and your welcome-homes to us make our whole days.
Thanks for treating us so good and bringing so much laughter and smiles to us.
When you’re doing your numbers and turn your head and look at us,
we can’t help but dissolve in laughter.
We love you like crazy.
Because you are, in fact, crazy.

Ode to Dryer Sheets

You are so small in size, dear dryer sheet.
With such an unusual, unsettling texture.

Yet, you still find a way, each and every time,
to leave my clothing and other laundry items
static free
and fresh-smelling.

You find the time and energy
to personally touch and spread your magic
to every single item within the confines of the Dryer;
sock,
underwear,
shirt,
and towel alike.
I don't know how you do it.

You do not discriminate.
You never skimp.
You are up to the task of softening even the largest of laundry loads.

I admit, dear dryer sheets, I never fully appreciated you
until I put on a pair of underwear from a batch not
graced with your goodness.

I'm sorry for taking you for granted for so long.

Thank you dear dryer sheets.

Ode to Biff

Biff, you are definitely your own man.
The Professor, if you will.

You stand firm to your inner desires. Some would call it stubbornness.
If you don't want to come out of the cave, you won't.
If you don't get what you want the exact way and time you want it, you pout.
If you want to be left alone, you scare away those that come near with a ferocious and menacing growl, baring your several rows of teeth.

And yet in all these things you are undeniably the most lovable guy we've ever seen.

You have a bit of the obsessive/compulsive in you; never entering or leaving the living room without detouring underneath the coffee table.
You jump up to poke your head out the kitchen window when you hear our cars pull in, even though it might possibly take every ounce of energy you possess.
You wait until you have the Perfect Place to take care of business. And then you punctuate your good fortune with a peel-out.
You sometimes wander over to the deck door, just to see what's going on out there.
You must have learned that from Dad.

You have a gentle, lazy, Eeyoretype of disposition -
You stand there calmly while being brushed or washed or doctored; such a good boy.
You live unfazed and at an even keel
until it has to do with food.

Because you like to eat.
You eat your daily meals on a consistent schedule, which is so endearing.
Each night during the 10:00 news we hear the methodic chewing of your Kirkland niblets.
You have your favorite human foods - pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, green beans, ice cream; and you expand exorbitant and uncommon amounts of energy in trying to acquire them.
You have to be tricked into taking any medicine though.
Oh but you love you some Milk Bones and Scooby Snacks.
When you're brought together with a rawhide,
it is as if the world exists just to bring the two of you together.

Along with Mom and the Barbeque, you are what makes the deck worth having.
You love to sun on the deck
and sniff the deck
and watch the world go by from the deck.

You have your favorites in life - you love
Clint's lap,
Dad's love,
Mom's care,
any kind of meat,
good love and attention,
lots of sleep,
your brother Duke
and your cushy cave.

The broom and the vacuum are your nemesis.
Yet you faithfully stay on the lookout for us,
facing away from us when we're gathered together in a room.
We don't mind though because we get to enjoy your cutest little bum
and tail wagging in the air as you lay there with your chin on the ground, perfectly still.

You have a rich heritage with Lacy as your mother
and have helped bring several little Biffs and Biffettes into the world.
You're also a part of a bigger family, ours, and we can't imagine life without you.
You bring endless entertainment without ever trying.

Biff, you love the love.
At the slightest of touch, you roll over to maximize any potential scratching opportunity.
Your favorite way to get the love is sitting in someone's lap
but you'll take it any way you can get it.
You'll stand up for it, sit at someone's feet and wait for it, even pawing sometimes to get the attention you so ardently feel you deserve.
With a face like yours, it's hard for any of us to resist.

You are SO adorable.
You have the biggest brownest eyes and the shiniest lower lip.
You have little tufts on the back of your neck that curl.
Your hear goes punk when it gets too long and
you have chubby little legs that get you around.
Sometimes you sit with one leg extended, showing us your modeling prowess.
Very handsome, Mr. Biff.

We love how you, our first little dog, eventually accepted and loved Duke into the family.
You sleep and play with your little brother-from-another-mother
as if you really were brothers
and always enjoy his company, even though he wears you out.

You yourself seem to be getting worn out and a bit tired but Mr. Biff, our love for you never will. We remember with fondness you as an ambitious youngster jumping up in the window seat to shout your ruh-ruh-roos --- now the most you can muster is the occasional support bark to Duke up on the perch.
But we love your more senior self also; chubby and lazy and lots of you to love.

Such a good boy.

Ode to my Transcriber

Note: This is an oldie but a 'goodie' (subjective, of course). The other odes are freshly-written on their posted dates; however I found this one today from a while back and decided it needs a voice.

Oh my Transcriber,

How do I love thee, let me count the ways.

I love the way thou allowest me to distort my boss's voice (or his co-hort's) to one of no recognition, depending on mine temperament and toleration levels.

I love the way thou allowest me to rewind repeatedly, using only my foot; my flowing fingers never leaving the board of keys.

I love the way the wearing of thy headphones allowest me to appear deep within the confines of a work of grand importance; thereby thwarting any undesired conversational attempts.

I love the way thou ist mine alone, that thine soft ear pieces have not been pressed into the waxy confines of anothers lobes.

I love the way thine volume hast the ability to increase exponentially, drowning out the rantings and ravings of Others whose vocal volume increase without limit when spurred on by the vices of engineers or other menaces.

I love that thou allows me to enlarge or diminish the speed of thy sounds. If the voices from within thy tapes are dragging on, I may gently nudge thee forward, increasing my chances of maintaining gentle moods.

Pearlcorder T1000 Microcassette Transcriber I love thee, and I shall love thee forever.

Please, thou must not leave me without, subject to the rigors and fallacies of thy counterpart, the Microcassette Recorder.

With all my fond and warmest wishes and love,
Colleen

Ode to Air-Conditioning

Dearest Air-Conditioning,

You are so hard-working and yet under-appreciated.
In our homes, offices, shops and cars, you churn out the cool air.
Hitting our faces with your giant cold,
Enveloping us in your cooling arms;
A reprieve from the soaring temperatures and brazen sun.

Air-conditioning,
to tell you the truth,
I have no idea how you work.
I looked it up on the World Wide Web and read about you;
something about Freon and condensing.
Whether it's that or pure magic,
it matters not.
Like my strange little dog Duke,
I don't have to understand you to love you madly.

I know about your weak step-brother the Swamp Cooler
and your even lamer cousin, the Electric Fan.
Air-conditioning, these two can't hold a candle to your expansive coldness and power.
Your friend the Ceiling Fan is not so bad in the sense of transitory temperatures,
but Air-Conditioning, that's not what we're talking about here.
We're talking about blowing COLD AIR. Not circulating it.

Air-conditioning,
you make me forget it's even hot outside.
You chill my little dogs until they're WANTING to be in the hot sun.
Your chilled blows of air seduce me into a deep and restful sleep,
allowing me to burrow down in my blankets.

Your worth is above that of rubies, diamonds, health insurance and Alan Jackson tickets.

Thank you, dear Air-Conditioning.

I shall not take you for granted.