Alligator Skin

Grandma and Me

Last night I put some of Mark's lotion on my arms because I have alligator skin. Dry, flaky, rough skin caused by the extremely dry winter air in Chicago. I didn't have this problem last year. My skin stayed smooth, possibly because twenty seven years of Florida humidity had plumped it up long enough to withstand our first winter here. This winter is different. My skin has been sucked dry as sand paper and looks bad. Twenty years of living with Mark and I have picked up some things that only black people talk about, like ashy skin. That's why I had faith in the lotion that Mark slathers on his dry patches. I squirted a nice puddle of lotion in my hand and smeared it all up and down my arms. Oh my god, it was disgusting. It did a nice job of smoothing my skin out, but now I smelled just like my Grandmother. Not that there was anything wrong with how Grandma smelled, like a mix of body odors, old lady perfume, and Palmolive soap, but I didn't want to smell like that. I tried to wash it off, but that lotion soaked deeply into my skin. The odor was so strong that I had a hard time sleeping, and when I did fall asleep I dreamt that my face was not buried in my pillow, but snuggled between my grandma's breasts. Which is a real thing that she used to do when I was a very small boy. She would sit me on her lap and sing me a song in that German accent, while pressing my head against her chest.

The Dog Between Us

The Mountain Between Us

I got out of bed the other night because Chandler was doing his tap dance at the bedroom doorway. It was four in the morning. The tap dance is what Chandler does when he has to go outside, Scout just jumps on the bed and licks my face. Anyway, as I was getting out of bed I brushed up against the wall. That woke me up good because it was like an ice cube. I've noticed that about the walls that are up against the outside brick of the house. They have gotten quite cold. I call it cold soak. The temperatures have been so cold here for the last two weeks, in the teens or below, that the cold is starting to soak through the walls.

On Saturday night Mark and I turned up the thermostat and watched a Netflix movie, The Mountain Between Us. Not a good movie to watch when it's five degrees outside. It's all about two strangers who charter a plane so that they can get to Denver, because all the experienced airlines have cancelled flights because of bad weather. Right there you know it's going to be a stupid movie, and that is reaffirmed when the charter pilot informs them that, "No, I didn't file a flight plan. VFR is what we'll use, no problem."  So, the pilot has a stroke, the plane crashes, yet the two strangers and the pilot's dog survive. Now they have to find their way down out of the mountains to civilization. It keeps getting more stupid as the movie progresses, as evidenced by both Mark and I only caring about the dog. We were both much more worried that they were going to kill off the dog, or lose the dog, than we ever cared about the two stars of the movie. Anyway, watching those idiots on that cold, snowy mountain only made me feel the cold outside our house that much more. Kind of like when I read a bunch of Jack London stories in the middle of winter once.

Back to me getting up at four in the morning to let the dogs out in the sub-zero cold. I put on my slippers, my coat, hat, and gloves, then opened the back door. As I stood there watching Chandler trying to find a place to poop while walking like his feet were on fire, I thought of that dog in the movie. He walked down a mountain, through deep snow, and it never seemed to bother him. Yet if my dog Chandler can't pinch off a loaf within thirty seconds of going outside in the snow, he gives up.

Fudgsicles, Icicles...

I can deal with cold weather, but I have to admit, I hate this super deep freeze. Luckily for me I don't have to go to work in it. I see people all bundled up, looking miserable as they walk down to the bus stop, and I feel so bad for them that I turn the thermostat up another degree. Because watching them makes me a bit chilly. The dogs hate it also. I do have to take them out to do their thing, but I limit them to one minute per potty trip. Any longer and their feet start to hurt and my face starts to hurt too. So they run out into the yard, pee or poop, and then run back up the stairs to the back door. It's been working out okay so far except for one little problem. Chandler, he has decided that frozen dog turds are delicious. Every time I let the dogs out I have to yell at Chandler to stop digging up turds. I picked up all the easily reached poop and chopped away at the nuggets that are frozen into the ice, but Chandler can find more of them under the snow. He goes out there and digs and digs until he comes up with a nice, nutty fudgsicle. Once Chandler has something in his mouth it is impossible to get it out. He grips it tightly while growling and giving you the side-eye. I tell him to drop it, I've tried to grab it, and I've tried to distract him by telling him there is a bunny rabbit in the yard, but he loves the poo. I asked the veterinarian about this and she told me that it won't hurt him if it's his own poop, which it is. For some reason Scout's does not have the same delicious qualities. So Now, if he gets a frozen turd and tries to bring it into the house so he can eat it at his leisure, I give him a choice. Either drop it at the door or finish eating it. He has finished eating it every time so far.

Peggy Comes to Visit

When I was a little kid, my older sister Peggy and I would hang out together a lot. I'm told now that it was because I was so easy to boss around. I do know that she talked me into running away from home once. We ran all the way to the sandbox in the backyard, and when it got a little blustery and scary we moved up to the front porch. I guess we taught Mom a lesson that time. She must have been beside herself with worry wondering what had happened to her two favorite children.

Yesterday afternoon, big sister came by to celebrate my birthday. She brought some delicious lasagna, a healthy green salad, and for desert, homemade cherry coffee cake. Peggy also brought some gifts for the dogs which resulted in almost immediate dog fighting. Scout thought that it was all for her and Chandler let her get away with it. Kind of like Peggy and me when we were very young. Anyway, after lunch we all sat around the living room talking and telling stories until Peggy realized it was almost rush hour and she had better get going. So we said our goodbyes and the dogs barked adiós out the window as Peggy made her way down the sidewalk. I would like to thank my sister for the wonderful lunch and gifts. We had a very nice time visiting with her. Unfortunately, I forgot to take any photos until just before she left. So I am glad that I got us all around the dining room table for one quick picture before she left.

Holiday Road

Well it looks like we're over the hump. The horrible month of December is history. As of December 21st, the days are growing longer and it is staying light a few more seconds every day. Mark's birthday has come and gone, and it seems I did a good job with that. All the pressure of Christmas is past, and in this house that's a lot of pressure. My Birthday, AKA the day that reminds me I am hurtling towards the end of life faster with each passing year, is done with. New Years Day did not bring me a hangover. It hasn't for many years now, not like it used to be when I was young. So it's all downhill now as we slide on towards springtime with its flowers and somewhat warmer weather. Really, we just have to put up with January and February. That's the worst of it. Even if we have a blizzard in March, it will all melt within a week. So now, on January second, we get to start it all over again. A full year ahead for us to screw up or make things better. I for one would like to make things better and I'd like to start with banishing certain Christmas songs forever. There is so much bad Christmas music out there, it really tends to get in the way of the good stuff. So I would like to start it off by voting that the song Holiday Road, by Lindsay Buckingham, never be heard again. Not the version by Lindsay Buckingham himself, not by any other artist, and certainly not the horrible version used in that Honda commercial. That piece of crap song has been stuck in my head like a spike for days. Just when it has been flushed from my brain, that horrible commercial comes on the television to reinforce it. So I say, no more goddamned Holiday Road song. What is your most hated Christmas song?