A Momma Nature’s White and Snug Friday

Wow Momma Nature with a vengeance this weekend huh? Mired this time in the white stuff to go along with the cold. Thankfully found a new friend in a guy with a plow named Rich after a call to my Maria’s dad who is still in Florida laughing his ass silly, I’m sure, at the weather reports from a place he is not. After a phone call or two later Rich was found and I just watched round one from my spot in the attic here of him doing what my old man back is glad to not have to. Clearing the driveway of this cursed snow. I love Rich by the way. He doesn’t know this, though, so let’s keep it a secret. He and I just met, and only over the phone. Don’t want to scare him by moving too fast.

Making my slow way home from the station I saw many the bundled person with a hood, gloves, annoyed resolve and a shovel or two and felt the kinship of this annoyed resolve and sure curses, though mine will wait till tomorrow. It is what we do here, I guess, but surely is mocked by those in even colder climes who have this as part of the daily as much as brushing teeth.  We all though share the joy, I hope (for those who don’t, and I don’t say this very often if ever, God bless) of finally getting to the snug. Mine is here in the attic with Shoey’s fat ass keeping me company while I scribble/key a few words of observation to help keep me sane.  
It is also knowing that the rest of the gang here at the FrankenGreco Ranch are good and in. The JG, who has been battling a cold for what seems like forever (as have I) as well as dealing with headaches, is downstairs with his iPad and Minecraft and feeling better. How do I know? Maria’s phone just rang with what sounded like a horn announcing a big ship’s long awaited arrival. Yes, he messed with her sounds. He’s definitely feeling better. My phone is safely up here with me by the way, otherwise I’ll surely fly awake, up and saluting or something in the morning or maybe be forced to jump under the bed out of abject fear.
my Maria is comfy under a Jackson and Brady blanket and an actual blanket and little Bella? If she is not sitting in her spot next to the space heater she’s looking for shit to knock on the floor while goading Shoes to wrestle or piss him off at the litter box. Shoes is very much a guy’s guy and if he could grab a copy of Kitty Illustrated or Cat’s Digest for his quiet time in said box he surely would, but for some reason that is just the time that little Bella waits to poke her head, stalker-like, around the corner of the nook in the attic where the litter is and seemingly wait for him to be in mid-moment before she pounces.  Kitty Illustrated/Cat’s Digest plus growls hit the floor running…poor Shoes. Ladies don’t understand…
…well the boys have been out for the last time for the night enjoying the crap out of the snow as only dogs seem to do, (I can only imagine Shoey and Bella tiptoeing) Jackson occasionally coming up for air from his snow nosing to look like he learned too many lessons from the 80’s and 90’s and Brady running all willy-nilly as if he has been nosing the same snow dust and needs to work off some hedonistic rock n roll energy. I can only now finally sit in this snug writing you all. I’ve got 5 discs in my ancient 5 disc player (which works just fine thank you, it even has a remote) alternating shuffle between Mumford & Sons, Supergrass, Coldplay, Cage the Elephant and Bob Mould.  I broke out the ancient 5 disc CD because my usual listen on the player on my only a year old PC (I’m old just saying PC huh?) is being a bit wonky. Tried and true I guess and I’m pretty darn ear happy.
So Mother Nature still floats heavy white and pretty, the “gang’s all here” is comfort gained and I sit, write and… well just sit…and it’s a Friday… if you’ve been here in the attic before you’ll know that Friday means I’m doing laundry and for some reason I like it. That seems strange maybe but it is part of the comfort.  It says home and as I went earlier to grab JG’s stuff he reminded me of why it is that I find it says home. He and I butt heads often, as would be expected with him being 13 in two days and me being…well just being with a soon to be 13 year old. I had my flashlight and was looking for his hamper (I like flashlights to the disdain of the masses here that like living in the sun) when he asked what I was doing as I was surely disturbing his Minecraft play.  After I found his hamper I said as much but with the flashlight in my mouth as I grabbed it with both hands.  “I’m getting your laundry.” Flashlight mouth sounded “iummm gettunn iin urrrlawndriss.”  He said “what” and then said “I don’t speak flashlight.”
 Just damn funny and more comfort.
It’s still snowing…a lot. I would normally write “sigh” here but…  
“…Yes I know I know the shovel is right there honey…”  “you’re pretty…”  “Brady did what?…and with his nose…?”…”have you seen my gloves?…”…”Hello Bella…oh damn, Jackson, yes I said her name… leave her alone…”….”Yes Brady that’s Shoes’s ass…” …”My boots are where?”…”Holy Cow that’s some snow…”
Did I say comfort gained?
Did I also say Holy Cow it’s still snowing…?
Post Note:  Next day, 6:40am. Just woke to take the boys out. Good morning Momma Nature. This is a shitload of snow.
8:30am. Just watched round two of the driveway being plowed.  Did I mention that I love this Rich fella? Sshhh, he still doesn’t know. A shovel awaits and, as I eventually do with a shovel what shovels do I will do so with the gang all snug. Like bugs.  Snug is good. And I don’t mind bugs.
-fb again.

New Notes From the Attic…

Notes from the Attic – Friday, January 25th

Been mired in quite a frigid week here in the Hudson Valley as we have enjoyed temps in the singles in the overnight and just barely the 20’s during the day all the while hoping this fictional global warming (according to some who are big fans of oil heat and big cars) would kick in, you know, like tomorrow, damn the future! I’m layering…a lot and I stink under all of them after they are peeled.  I don’t have enough clothes for extended periods of said layering nor do I have the $ for the extra laundry detergent necessary to keep cleaning the aforementioned stink.  Plus when I wear the super long scarf that my Maria got me for Christmas inside at work, sans coat, I look like some sad Steven Tyler wannabe minus the slowly sinking smile that has him looking like an old woman on a cheese line.

                This whole damn cold thing makes the dread of mornings palpable like an arctic albatross taking residence on my shoulder the night before reminding me of how cold my ass is going to be at 5:40a when I wake for my Jackson/Brady morning followed by the extra negative wind chill of passing cars at the end of the driveway waiting for school bus. Those bus lights though, when they finally come, are like beacons from the heavens (I’m just hoping no one up top hears my heavenly character inspired curses at the cold) telling me that precious warm nap time is almost upon you my son…(then moments later it seems)…now get up for work…yeh, we heard you. Heavenly karma’s a bitch.

                At least Mother Nature has promised a relatively tropical break from this cold spell this week with temps in the 40’s by Tuesday. Shorts and t-shirts are in order I think and maybe a bad Hawaiian shirt. Also a quick call to my mom and my Maria’s dad who are both in Florida right now (not together, that would be weird) might be warranted to remind them how much we love them…and hate them.

                So amidst this freaky cold I have a few Notes for the Attic:

          Found out this week that Charlie Brown was arrested on five counts of felony including stalking. I’m assuming they got him when they discovered foot prints and crushed cigarette butts with his DNA on them in a bush outside the little red haired girl’s bedroom window.
          Saw a video of a kitten jumping up from and then back into a hamper to grab clothes thrown at him. That’s more help than I get from the JG with laundry and he’s 12 and human!

          Watched a bit of the new season of American Idol. I don’t want a nickname bestowed on me by Nicki Minaj however much it might make me feel “special.”

Notes from the Attic – The week of January 28th

So my good bud J.J. (Jeremiah Johnsen – Cumulus Westchester) got me on face time on my phone yesterday. Hadn’t done the face time thing on my new iPhone yet so it was an adventure, as most of this old dog new figgerin’ on my first smart phone is, but once I got it down I realized Jeremiah wasn’t wearing a shirt. Now before you start thinking weird stuff, you freaks, this isn’t a regular occurrence, plus the lighting wasn’t right on my end, wouldn’t have fit the mood. No, there was a reason he wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was in Jamaica and just coming off the beach or something I’m guessing.  But anyway, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, I figured out the face time thing and he informed me that the reason he was getting in touch with me wasn’t to rub in the fact that he was in Jamaica and I wasn’t (bastard) but that he was there with his radio station for a live broadcast for a couple of mornings for a promotion where they gave away a trip and got to accompany the winner.  His station wasn’t there alone either, as there were a number of other morning shows from around the country there as well for the same promotion and one of them was helmed by my old boss from Dayton, Ohio, Jeff Stevens (who by the way also happens to be my canned competition in the afternoons across the radio street at Lite-FM. Weird huh?)  That old boss of mine thing was 16 long and short years ago and here he was, when the connection was made that his new friend J.J.  knew me, exclaiming “Are you f’ing kidding me? Frankenberry?! I can’t get away from that f’ing guy!” I miss him. It’s either someone somewhere, anywhere that for some reason knows me, of me, wishes they had shot me when they had the chance or it’s a Pittsburgh Pirate fan out of the blue showing up to cry on someone’s shoulder.  I guess it is indeed a small world.

More notes from the attic in a new week (actual day any):

          Woke up today with a large drool spot on my pillow. That, along with excessive ear hair is not a good sign.

          Posted on my Frankenberry Wczx Mix Facebook page that I had seen a photo of Adam Lambert celebrating his 31st birthday with a shirtless David Arquette giving him a lap dance. Pic also had another shirtless dude in the background. I posted this along with a picture of my “What the..?” face. Now the only nightmare that Adam Lambert may have inspired in the past like, say, creeping into to my house to give me makeup hints has now been trumped by this one. “rrrrrrr” chill shake face sound effect.

          Open letter to the  NFL on behalf of football fan Roy Fox of Indiana who patented the phrase “Harbowl” about a year ago in anticipation of a possible future meeting of the two Harbaugh brother NFL head coaches facing each other in the Super Bowl.  After being “pressured” by the NFL to give up the patent for his phrase because it could be, according to them, laughingly confused with their trademark Super Bowl Mr. Fox abandoned the patent.  Now, even though the NFL’s case was weak at best I’m going to assume that the “pressure” applied to Mr. Fox to relinquish the patent was more on the heavy handed threatening side. Hell, they wouldn’t even grant his request to simply reimburse him for the $1000 he spent on the patent and throw in some tickets for the Colts and, for some reason, an autographed photo of Roger Goodell. No, I don’t get that either. The open letter goes as such: Dear NFL. Screw You.     

          This morning I realized as I got up at my usual 5:40a for a Jackson/Brady eat, pee, poop that there is no dog in this wide world that pees on his own feet better than Jackson. Though this morning was only his front right I’ve seen him hit 3 out 4 paws before. Westminster Dog Show talent this Bitches!

          Ran to Stop and Shop yesterday to grab a sandwich for myself and my sis, Beth Christy from the Wolf (that’s Country if you couldn’t tell from the moniker).  Before I went inside I decided to hit the bottle return as I had about 356 or so empty Stop and Shop 12 packs of soda water cans in my back seat, trunk rolling dumpster of a car. While pushing my nickels into the return thingy machine an older guy came in to do the same in the return thingy machine right next to mine. Right on my hip it seemed. He only had a few returns. When he was done he slowly adjusted the belt on his pants…slowly adjusted the belt on his pants…did I say slowly…and the belt on his pants? still at the machine right next to mine, right on my hip and said a smiling “goodbye” or “take care” or something to that effect. My eleven dollars and ten cents made me feel cheap and used. I should have brought the bag of empty beer cans to make it an even fifteen dollars. Standards.

          I have Monday off by request after this week of notes. The original request was for the Monday following the Steelers in the bowl a few years ago but now I request, if I can, this Monday just to have a day but to also make it known, in my own small way,  that the Monday following the Super Bowl should be a national lazy holiday. I hate to say it but of all the Mondays that are national holidays, all for good reason, most are days we just say “thanks” and gladly roll back over. But the Monday following the Super Bowl? Shit, that’s a day we need.

Back in the attic again soon…