Hibernation 2015 - wherein I discuss stashing food supplies and what I achieved of my pre-hibernation goals, and perhaps, the dreams I will dream during said winter incubation period

I recently got asked to do a Thing in another city, and I very seriously replied that I was, in fact, in hibernation until the end of February. A conservative estimate. In truth, the end of hibernation depends on the end of Snow Season, which is different from the end of Winter. Although the two are not wholly unrelated.

Northern Michigan winters are not something I take lightly. Yes, there are places where winter is worse and/or more persistent. But this is nothing to be sneezed at. Unless you have the flu on top of being trapped in your own house and really we all should have just gotten flu shots. No, I'm not completely cut off from civilization -- see, I have the internet, I have all the civilization I need -- but when your means of getting to the grocery store or anywhere else in town is a tiny compact car, you reevaluate your ability to fight the terror in white.

And damn if road slush didn't nearly do me in the other day. It wasn't even snow! Or ice! Just the goofy slush! Argh.

So I don't travel between Christmas and the start of March. Not if I can help it and certainly not for any distance.

The cupboard shall not run bare.

I have a December through March worry, which becomes a full on January and February neurotic maxim, to always have several days worth of food on hand -- food that can be turned into meals, not just a box of Cheerios and a pound of butter. Shudder. Because we never know when the next big snow is going to hit.

Last year the weather forecasts were dead on. Then again it seemed like we got 2-5" every day last winter, so I guess it's not that hard to predict. But this year they predict 3" we get none. They predict 6" we get none. They predict 5" we get 12." Sigh. And even when a mild 5" fell earlier this week, and I had diligently shoveled out all the requisite paths -- clear sidewalk for school kids, clear steps for mail man, clear driveway for me to get the car out -- I slipped and slid all over the place courtesy of aforementioned slush. So I try to stay off the roads the day of snowfall if I can. (A home office is a brilliant thing.) But if it snows for three days . . . I'm screwed. Or at least stranded.

Which is fine. Because I prepare.

I like to have enough on hand that I could, if needed, wait it out for a week until a clear day afforded me passage to the market that did not land me in the ditch or making new friends and acquaintances of the let's trade insurance information variety. At the very least I can stretch things out by eating rice and kimchi until I realize that I'm not Korean enough -- even in my own mind -- to eat kimchi with every meal. (It should be noted that technically I'm not Korean at all, I just watch too much K-drama and it's been rubbing off on me.)

Read the rest of this post...

Hurricane Finger Food

As Hurricane Sandy smacks down into the eastern seaboard of the United States, I can't help my overwhelming urge for finger foods. Snacky-snacks. Should I go out and buy chips and salsa? Should I make peanut butter cookies? Banana bread?

There's a rational reason behind this desire: should the power go out, I'd need foodstuffs that do not require heat to prepare or refrigeration to keep.

There's an irrational reason too: Hurricane Sandy is the best reality TV of the season. All consuming drama. Infinite outcome possibilities. Occurring in real time. With chance of interactivity should the storm reach where you live. This sort of drama needs snacks.

Or at the very least we can all tweet #HurricaneSandy again and again.

I thought that, seeing as I'm hunkered down in the Midwest, that the hurricane posed no issue for me. Then I saw the Weather Channel's map of "likely power outages" (not me) and "possible power outages" (holy crap, that's me!) and I decided it couldn't hurt to take a trip to the store, stock up on essential snack food, get some fresh batteries, and fill a couple pitchers with drinking water.

They've not said if the power outages are possible all the way as far inland as Chicago and Wisconsin because of the winds alone (they're gonna be doozies) or if it's going to be because of rolling outages and demands on the grid. I remember all too well the rolling blackout of 2003 that darkened New York to Detroit. That was actually the first time in my life I'd ever seen a "brown out" before the blackout. My mother later told me that "brown outs" were common when she was a kid -- the television, which was on at the time,  got dim, then came back, then dimmed to almost nothing, then came back, then ... nothing. Four days worth of nothing.

President Obama got on air and made a very calm, very presidential, very rambling statement that people need to follow evacuation orders so that the first responders we have in place won't be unnecessarily put in harm's way. Reading between the lines: don't be selfish.

New Jersey's governor -- and I know very little about New Jersey's governor but this statement fits with everything I know of him -- says simply: "Don't be stupid. Get out."

Their concern is well founded. My New Yorker friend reposted this link to a Hurricane Irene cartoon today on Facebook. The fear among public officials, weather forecasters, and FEMA is always that when we predict a bad storm and it doesn't happen, that the next prediction will be seen as crying wolf.

Of course, all it takes is looking at the water mark in Battery Park. Today, four hours before the storm makes landfall, the water mark is only an inch below its height during Irene.

I'm not terribly worried for me, but being prepared never hurts.

Prepared. Like buying tortilla chips.

Twitter abounds with pictures of people's preparedness bounty. Namely beer. Practical for multiple reasons -- passing the time and, should the power go out, having all that cold beer filling the fridge will help keep the entire contents from rapid spoilage. (Not that we need more reasons for beer.)

Prepared. Like laying in supplies of brie and water crackers, Swiss Roll Cakes and salsa.

Prepared. Like checking the flashlight, finding it dead, then being responsible and purchasing new batteries for it, only to put in said new batteries and have the light bulb pop and die. So I have no flashlight. The good news is that I have plenty of candles and those at least give off heat -- important for someone looking to be prepared for a Midwestern windstorm and/or winter. Unfortunately, they also give off scent.

Scented candles: ready to stink up blackouts in pastel colors and high class holders. And banana bread (it's cooling on the rack). Yep. We're prepared.

The new year arrives on a blanket of white

January arrived quietly here, and in its wake 5-7" of snow. It was as if mother nature -- who, like the rest of us, had been weary and distracted by the holidays -- suddenly remembered that it was winter and she should really get on that snow-thing she had promised us.

Safely tucked indoors, listening to the scrape and beep of the snow plow clearing the parking lot, I watched the tabby cat sit by the window and try to tap every snowflake that stuck to the outside of the glass.

I'm still in the process of wrapping up the old year, and thus I'm beginning the new one slowly. I have almost 30 more books from my 2011 reading list that I'd like to blog about.  I have goals and plans to make, but it doesn't bother me that they've not been made before the first seconds of 2012 ticked away.

I already know that my biggest goals for 2012 are ones which clarified themselves in 2011 -- I know what I need to do to live that life and be the person I want to be, the writer I want to be, the entrepreneur I want to be, and everyday I am taking small steps toward that that person. In this respect, I've not wanted to change anything about my attitude or habits in 2012.

And -- for the first time since I laid out all the money months ago -- I'm seriously glad I invested in two new pairs of boots. I anticipate a long white winter to come.

I invite everyone to leave a comment and tell me your hopes, goals, and plans for the new year -- or leave me the link if you've already blogged it.

Photo credit: VW-chick on Flickr.

You're fired

Yesterday = ice storm.  Half the city without power, the other half creeping along roads where none of the stop lights work while trying to avoid downed branches.  The photo is not me or my car--thankgoodness--but it is from the local paper.  It took me 45 minutes to scrape the ice off my car at noon on Monday.  I had tried at 7:45 AM to scrape it off, but after ten minutes of scraping and only excavating an area the size of a silver dollar on the passenger side window (I started there b/c the ice was the thinnest there), I gave up.  Went back inside, tried to contact the department, and emailed my class.  There was no way I was going to make it there before 9:00 AM.

Snowmageddon, sub-zero temps, a teaser week in the 40s and now an ice storm -- all within the space of a month.

I normally don't behave like this, but ... Winter, you've been vetoed.  You're fired. Auf wiedersehen. The tribal council has spoken. Your banner must fall. You're no longer in the running to be America's next top model.  Pack your knives and go.  You've been chopped.  We're going to have to send you home.

It's spring. It has to be.

Today I looked across the street and realized that the bare trees I've been staring at for five months aren't bare: they're covered in tiny green leaves.

My nose has been telling me that spring was underway for several weeks now, but the leaves are a more certain sign.



Just over three months ago the same street was covered in snow. Lots and lots of snow. I went back to dig out this photo and that's when I realized that I'm about to start my fourth season in Kalamazoo.



I've been here through the fall when the trees changed colors one fiery blaze at a time.



And I've been here in the hot green summer (just barely).

MFA Application Cycle

January is the dead month for MFA applications. Most of them are due in December, a few hold deadlines open until January 15 but those are certainly few and far between. My advice to anyone in this year's application cycle: forget that you've even applied until February 20. Most schools don't start making offers until the first week of March, some won't be made until the end of March. I didn't know I was coming to WMU until April.

Be patient. Write something. Buy ten novels and tell yourself you're not allowed to check any stat board until you've finished all ten.

Last year I threw myself into a January version of NaNoWriMo with an abandon. It worked wonders; instead of obsessing over an application process I no longer had control over, I obsessed over a novel that whose creation was entirely up to me and my efforts. [BTW, I printed out that manuscript over break to hopefully start editing work on it. The nice part of not looking at it for 6+ months is that I'm actually surprised by both the plot and my writing, both of which I remember to be a lot worse than they are.]

This year I'm in the MFA. Great. I'm teaching, I'm writing, I'm taking classes -- all of it working toward publication and a teaching job. The fact that winter has dumped 8-10" of snow on me in the past 48 hours isn't bothering me too much -- I've got food in the fridge and I don't have to be anywhere until Monday.

So I called my father to chat, to get updates, to find out what his secret to cooking a tenderloin is (somehow I thought there'd be more than "season it with Mrs. Dash"). I find out that my grandmother is doing well after surgery, that there's no definitive answer about family members who are moving, and he asks if now isn't a good time to start applying for the Ph.D. program.

!!!

My father remains gungho on the idea of me getting a Ph.D. in creative writing. An MFA is terminal, but a Ph.D. is even more terminal -- which doesn't make sense but neither do the degrees. The program here at WMU has both an MFA and a Ph.D. program in creative writing. As I understand it, it is possible to transfer MFA credits over to the Ph.D. program without actually completing the MFA. My father sees this as a brilliant idea: less time spent in school, right? However, now isn't the time for such considerations. I've only spent a semester in the graduate program and have very little writing-wise to show for it. I certainly don't feel like I have a portfolio worthy of a Ph.D. application. And, as I reminded my father, this year's application cycle has passed. This transferring programs conversation is one I'll have with faculty, current students and the graduate advisor in the months to come.


Meanwhile, I give you today's stupid people of the day award! It goes to yet another brilliant neighbor of mine. No, not smokey, no not the guy who nearly burned down the opposite building with his grilling/lighter fluid escapades. This award goes to a young woman with a Prius.

Coming back from her shopping/lunch trip, she pulls up in the general vicinity of her parking spot and blocks half the road with her car. Turns on her flashers, gets out, leaves the driver's side door open, opens the back hatch and takes out a brand new collapsible shovel. First she attempts to shovel with the itty-bitty short handle. After several scoops she realized that the handle can get longer and extends it the extra foot.

She spends the next 10-15 minutes shovelling out a parking space for her car. Without gloves on. This whole time her car is blocking more than half the snow filled road, door open, engine running. I'm really surprised none of the passing cars ended up taking her door off.

Snow heaved to the side -- she's effectively moved the snow over to the next parking spot instead of putting it anywhere else -- she gets back in her running car -- what do you want to be she's been blasting the heater this whole time? -- and pulls in. The shovel has been put into the back of the car where I can see at least a half dozen plastic grocery bags flapping in the wind. But when she leaves the car she's only carrying her purse and an Arby's drink cup.

Bravo, honey. Bravo. May the 4" of snow yet to fall this weekend give you problems.

(front and center is a Honda Civic. The snow reaches up to touch its front bumper.)

White Christmas

This may surprise you Southerners, you Hawaiians with your idyllic visions of a Midwestern winter, but rarely does southern Michigan get a white Christmas.

This year, by definition, is rare. And white.

Sadly, in the picture it had been raining for a couple of hours (a lovely snow/rain mix, yuck) and melted the snow off the tree branches. I sincerely doubt that it will take the snow off the ground any time soon however.

I'm spending my break writing a depressed character (bummer), reading short stories (usually downers as well) and skimming Oprah's "Live Your Best Life" issue of O Magazine. It's an interesting combination.

Oh, and Rosie figured out how to climb the tree. She's not doing it to get to the top, but to a kitten sized nook she found about three feet up. The two of them have also constructed a new tradition of taking ornaments off the lowest branches and depositing them on different floors of the house. While many get batted down the stairs to the basement, a lucky few have been carried upstairs.

Merry Christmas
and Happy Holidays

Out of town visit

I rolled into [unnamed small town] in Indiana the other day thinking that everyone would be talking about me and my triumphant return, only to discover that a couple hours earlier Bill Clinton had rolled into town and completely upstaged me.

Man, if I had a nickle for every time Bill's done that to me. . .

Good old ServiceMaster Carpet Cleaning. That sign always reflects what's going on in town ... even when the town doesn't know what's going on, so no, it's not a coincidence. Apparently Bill is forgiven enough to receive blessing in the Bible belt. Or at least in this part of it.

Although the drive in had considerably better weather:

Ah, Spring.

Back post

So I finally mastered my camera phone. Whahaha!

Speak Coffee 1: Techolongy 0!

Okay, that only works because I'm the one keeping score and I do so selectively. So back from the Ayo Technology Post on March 28, I give you the last snow storm of March. (Morning)

With any luck there will not be a snow storm in April. (Afternoon)

Keep your fingers crossed. It would really be a doozy for the flowers that are pushing their way up now.

Officially ...

... it's spring: (Photo taken 3/21/08 @ 3:30 pm)

... and I'm on the waitlist:

It's good to get the first snow storm of the spring season out of the way. And for once I'm not being sarcastic. It's a decent storm but without any ice which is always good.

Also good news is that Western Michigan has let me know something at all. They also told me that should I move up to be "eligible for a funded position" they would contact me. Exciting! Funded position! Oo the thought! Because right now I'd go to Western with out the funding as I qualify as an in-state resident. And I think I should get some sort of reward from this state for putting up with snow in the spring time. Okay, now I'm being sarcastic again.
Up Next: Ad of the Week

Oh, Spring, that's right

Today is officially the first day of Spring. I wouldn't have remembered if it wasn't for the image that greeted me when I went to Google this morning. Awww. Isn't that cute?

And look, the weather even seemed to cooperate for this festive occasion! Yes, indeed, that is blue sky and fluffy little white clouds! I should go stalk the water tower and see if they match today or not.

But don't get too excited. Tomorrow's forecast? 35 degrees, snow, and a Winter Storm Watch!

"SNOW IS EXPECTED TO DEVELOP FRIDAY AFTERNOON AND BECOME HEAVY AT TIMES DURING THE LATE AFTERNOON AND EVENING HOURS. TOTAL SNOW ACCUMULATION OF 5 TO 8 INCHES IS POSSIBLE BETWEEN ABOUT 2 PM FRIDAY AFTERNOON AND 4 AM LATE FRIDAY NIGHT BEFORE TAPERING OFF AND ENDING BY SUNRISE SATURDAY MORNING."

Happy Spring!

Thanks for that weather update, Jim. Now back to local news.

In the mail today -- Bam! -- rejection letter. Thank you Notre Dame for making me wait this long! Paralith and I got into a discussion a while ago about the waiting for grad school responses and getting only silence when others where getting acceptances and rejections. She stated, aptly, that by this point at least we had made it beyond the first or second round of rejections. Which I agree with.

I have a feeling that I was on the second half of the ND wait list. Maybe even the first half. They started notifying accepted applicants more than a month ago so I held out fairly long. But as reality TV has taught us, putting in a good show and a tough fight may make you a fan favorite, it won't get you the prize money at the end. So long to my last chance to attend my father's Alma Mater. And my uncle's Alma Mater. It's where my dad got his graduate degree, where I was born and baptized and where my uncle played football in the tradition that my grandfather so loved. And it was the only thing that could have convinced me to move back to Indiana right now. My mother was ticked that I didn't name drop more on my application, as that football playing uncle (1970s if you follow ND football) is her brother.

My favorite part of the ND rejection is when they state "it's not you, it's the other candidates."

It reads "this decision should not be viewed as an evaluation of your acceptability as a graduate student, by rather as an indication of the degree of competition in your department."

Which made me feel really good until I thought about it. Translated into break up speak it would read "It's not that you're ugly, it's that this other chick is waaaay hotter." And I'd slap a guy for that.

I know, I know. Those three required visits to the therapist were obviously not effective else I wouldn't be having the urge to slap someone again. But now that no action has been brought against me I'd like to say that the bastard more than deserved it and most people agree.

Dear Indiana friends: this means I will not be moving back to you. Face it, you're not that shocked.

I have one school left to hear from: Western Michigan.

I refuse to think about anything arriving other than a skinny envelope with a rejection letter. Then again all I've ever gotten are skinny envelopes even for acceptances. As soon as I start thinking about what it would be like to attend a school, what I would say when I got the call, where I would apartment hunt, I inevitably get some piece of information that nixes all that creative wondering. Either a flat rejection or a piece of financial information that makes me realize some hard truths of the situation.

I'm not upset by the thought of needing a back door (apply to one program and switch) to get to do what I want to do. If I thought "sleeper program" sounded intriguing then "back door" sounds like I'm being just as crafty. To be honest, I don't need the degree to write. I'm writing now. I need the degree to teach, because I'd prefer not to temp for the rest of my natural life. So who cares how I get it or where i get it from so long as I get my writing done and get it accepted someplace? [N.B. we should be hearing acceptance/rejection of fiction pieces from the last round of send outs March 28 - early June. Contest (2 dif contests) winners announced in "late Spring."]

There's one more option after this last school though. A back door, so to speak, that could have beautiful product if I follow through with it. Especially for my web followers as it is a hybrid program that embraces tech and the visual art merged with writing. We will see on that score as I've not yet applied. However it's a program I know I could afford.

Which begs the question, what will the future of cutting edge writing look like? We're moving toward the ebook (I'll admit that I've read a few but I still love the smell of a new book in my hands) but no one has really explored the possibilities of the ebook. How much could be done with that form?

Photography: The weather outside my window

When I first posted beautiful snowy pictures of Michigan several months ago some said "How wonderful! It'll be great to follow the seasons through your blog!" I believe this was Jud. So here you go: March in Michigan. It's 3:00pm in that photo BTW, not night, not twilight. As lovely as this photo is, February was worse. So bad in fact that I didn't post a single picture of the world around me. There's some sun peeking through the clouds right now, but southeast Michigan is among the cloudiest regions in America. Ya.

Aren't you glad I'm sharing the "season" with you?