Another Record

Evidently this is a new record for snowfall in a single month. The official measurement is 59.8 inches for December. Five fucking feet of snow in a month. I think about 55 inches of that has fallen in the last two weeks.

I hate every damnable inch of the stuff. I seem to spend every day shoveling. There is simply nowhere else to put it.

I give up. I am going to Arizona. The problem is that my car is buried because of the snowplows, so I will have to walk.

Apparently It's a Record

Officially, the city is reporting about 23 inches of snow dumped by the recent storm, with about 18 inches dropped in a 24-hour period.

Two feet seems to be a bit conservative for my neighborhood. After shoveling, I had snow caked on my pants up to about mid-thigh.

I am sure E got it worse than I did. Tracking the storm on the various weather maps, it appeared the storm was particularly enthralled with the area near her home.

Weevil may have more snow, but I think there was considerably more out there before this storm blew through.

I now recall why winter and I do not get along so well. After six rounds of shoveling in less than 36 hours, I am exhausted and in a good deal of pain. I think I pulled an abdominal muscle.

I'll try to post a picture of the glorious winter wonderland when I can.

Until then...

One Week Later

It has been a week.

How am I?

Well, for starters, I am tired of answering that question. Seems every time someone sees me, they get doe-eyed, lose about two-thirds of the volume of their voice, and ask "How are you doing? Are you OK? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Curious, that the people who ask these questions are people I would not typically turn to for help. The people I turn to are the people who frequent this page. Well, those people I know about, anyhow. The people I turn do do not need to offer their assistance. Such support is a symbiotic constant.

Now, to answer the question: I am here. I have good times and bad times, as one might expect.

I feel an odd calm in that we have found out what, exactly, killed my brother. Heart attack.

I don't like knowing that I do not know something. An awkward sentence, but I am sure the sentiment is clear.

Apologies, but much of my creative energy has been spent on a final paper that was finished mere moments ago.

Good night.

Planning vs Execution

I had intended to take my Japanese final this morning. That didn't work so well. I sat in class for about twenty minutes, just staring at the test. Finally, I gave up, turned the paper in without even putting my name on it, and left. I worked out an opportunity to retake the test next week. We shall see if my focus is better.

I had intended to travel to Florida to be with family this weekend. There are a few problems with that. First is cost. I simply do not have the $500-800 needed to make the flight, even with the bereavement discount. Second is scheduling. I realize that there is not exactly an opportunity to schedule a sudden death in the family, but I have finals and projects that I cannot reschedule.

I feel like such an asshole.

. . .

I am simply numb. Please forgive any fragmentation of this post, but I am not sure how I am handling the news I was just told.

My younger brother, Scott, is dead. He collapsed at work about an hour ago. An ambulance was called. About twenty minutes later, doctors at a Tampa area hospital were unable to revive him.

I used to consider myself quite fortunate. Everyone I gave a damn about was alive and kicking, causing whatever trouble they thought they could get away with. Now, in the space of a calendar year, I have lost my grandfather, and now, one of my brothers.

I had drifted apart from Scott since we were kids growing up in Florida. I think it had been close to five years since I spoke with him. This year, however, we reconnected. I spoke with him at least once a month, heard incredibly cute stories about his children, and how his construction business was finally starting to get off the ground. Things were looking very bright for him. The biggest worry he expressed to me was that he had just turned thirty and was beginning to find gray hairs. I mailed him a box of "Just for Men" hair dye as a birthday present.

I wish I could offer his family something worthwhile. Happy thoughts and well-wishing seem utterly useless at this point.

I am not sure what I am going to do today. I have a Japanese final. I should take that.

Let me close by saying to my regular crowd that I love you guys.