How I got my name

      A long time ago, in a suburb of Chicago far, far, far away to the south of where I currently live (but three miles before the end of the world), I used to go by the moniker "Duckiie." Everyone who knew me, knew me as Duckiie. Many people did not even know I had another name and were baffled if anyone called me something else, like Tina. They had no idea who you were talking to. Neither did I.
   Then, I entered the corporate world and slowly my old identity began to slip away. I exchanged my name for something a little more conformist - like George. For a long time, that name was nearly forgotten; except by my near and dear friends who hale from that long ago place and that long ago time and would call me at work and ask for the Duck, confusing my bosses and co-workers to no end
   More recently, however, I have resorted to using old name from my old alter ego identity.  Specifically in my blog.

   Inevitably people began say things like - isn't that cute.

NO, it isn't. 

   My parents named me after the vicious saber-tooth duck that roamed the earth terrorizing animals large and small during the ice age (Past Ice Age, not current Polar Vortex Ice Age). Nothing cute about that.

   Then folks began asking me how I got my name. There are a number of theories that abound about this subject.

• I was given that name at birth. (See above notes on the non-cuteness of this name) Schools and other institutions had a hard time spelling it and changed it to make their record keeping easier.
• My GrandAl used to call me that. (GrandAl is a whole other story and I am not answering those questions at this time)
• My cousin and I were dubbed with the names Frog and Duck after falling into a swampy pond while out playing. I got the better end of the deal.
• I am an alien from another world and consider this name normal and dignified.
• An alter-ego took over my body and decided that this name was taller and more fitting to my Ego stature.
• I picked the name out of a box of Froot Loops. Which is the best breakfast food ever. 

   Whatever explanation above that you like, you are free to believe. No extra charge. 

And please, no cute comments. I would hate to have to kill you. 

I am running out of moments between the minutes and have to make an appearance in the normal time stream to get my daughter off the bus.  

Her name is George.

The Tree is STILL up

   Our Christmas tree still graces our living room. It is only Jan. 16....

   Hey, Christmas did not officially end until last Sunday, so it was supposed to still be up, right? Besides, I have decided that it would be simpler this year to buy hearts and attach ribbons to them and hang them on the tree for Valentine's Day. We could move to four leaf clovers in March, then on to cute Easter Eggs in April. Heck, they already make "Easter Trees" so I can get a whole set of ornaments! So much less stressful than packing up the Christmas stuff, scouring the house to make sure you have missed nothing, toting all the boxes/branches/gear up to the attic and tucking it away. Then going down to sit in your favorite chair to compliment yourself on a job well done and find a Christmas decoration staring right back at you! Mocking you. Then a week later, another magically appears in one of the bedrooms. And another - until you don't have the energy to drag out one of those boxes and repack with yet another find. Come November, you have just about completed the task and guess what? Christmas season is upon you!
   It worked once, a long time ago when we were first married and never home. Our tree stayed up in the apartment until sometime mid April, when it was launched out the patio door. It wasn't exactly and argument that launched it, but rather a difference in opinion on who was going to take it down. We have since gotten past such petty differences. Now it is always my problem to take down the tree and pack up the decorations. I still have not figured out how this all worked out, but someday I may yet understand life, the universe and everything.
   Leaving Christmas Tree and decorations is not an option now. Our living room is too small (the greatest room in our house it the kitchen, and part of that is cause the food is there). We remove valuable seating to make way for the tree. Seating that we are starting to miss and would like back. So we don't all have to share the couch. And our tree is in the front window, which obscures my view of the outside and prevents me from being nosy and wondering what the heck my neighbor is doing. I haven't seen him in weeks, but assume he is alive and well as his car regularly comes and goes. I can see his car when I leave my own driveway. Moreover, dusting with all the Christmas stuff is next to impossible. At least that is my excuse. But far worse is the fact that the tree blocks the way to the room humidifier in the living room, making it nearly impossible to refill the tanks and turning our house into static war zone. Picking up an afghan is like grabbing a lightening bolt. Touching the bird cage could send you through the ceiling. When passing the Christmas tree, tendrils of tinsel reach out to zap the unwary. Casual contact is strictly forbidden on grounds of personal safety.
   So the tree has to come down. No matter how pretty it still looks. You can't sit on it (even the bird avoids it), it is starting to collect dust and it is becoming dangerous. Good thing we have always had an artificial tree. It would be even sadder if I had empty branches adorned with Christmas treasures and a mound of poky needles beneath.
   Rubbermaid totes in the dining room are pulling me back into time. Till next time between the minutes.

Me, working on a laptop in kitchen.

My adventures in the new year....

  We are now on our second cold snap of the year. It is still January. I am not sure I have gotten over the first one. Two days of sub zero temperatures direct from Antarctica, blowing winds from the Arctic and snow (cause the first two were not enough) kept us indoors. Cautiously we crept out on the third day. Mostly because school reopened, but also because cabin fever was setting in. The shoveling and breaking up of ice began. I could stop running the space heater 24/7 to keep the utility room warm enough so the pipes would not freeze. I could close the cabinet doors in the kitchen. I could go outside.
   Outside I found that I had traded my indoor tools for a new set of tools; the shovel and ice pick. I cleared up the ice rink that we were using as our driveway. I cleared the sidewalk and sewer on the corner for the bus stop so we would have somewhere to stand. I dug out the fire hydrate on the corner of our property so in the event that my house catches fire no one need waste precious moments trying to locate it. I dug a path to to the back of our house where the utility meters reside so that we would have actual readings instead of estimated ones. I like to do a thorough job.
    And after these forays into the outside world, I retreated back into our house to clean up the mess that we had made from two days of forced indoor vacation. Because really, with a couple of kids running around and getting hungry every few hours, not much gets accomplished.
    Perhaps the worst part about the last cold snap was about five days later, when the temperature rose to a balmy 45° F. And it started to rain. Then pour.  I was thinking of Googling the specifications for building an Ark, when what did I see outside my office window? No, not an Ark. A snowplow. Plowing all the slush and remaining snow and whatever other crap he could find right over my well tended and clear sewer! Then that jerk had the nerve to turn around and drive off, no longer plowing, but just driving with the plow in the up position. As he drove off (I swear, I heard demonic cackling), I watched in horror as the street quickly began to fill with water and transform itself into a small lake.
   Quickly I sprang into action, grabbing my coat, my rubber boots, an umbrella and a shovel. I plashed though the driving rain with my bright red golf umbrella held aloft and my trusty shovel tucked under my arm. Alarmed, I found that the waters already covered the tops of my toes. I smashed the umbrella handle into the snow embankment as best I could and then frantically began digging and swearing. Drivers passed me with odd looks on their faces. Neighbors peered around curtains. The wind gusted and blew the umbrella over after which no amount of force could make it stay entrenched in the snow again. I was doomed to get wet, but I was determined. I was not going to have a flood in January with freezing temps about to return the next day. Floods in the spring I have managed, but floods in the winter were unimaginable monsters that loomed on the other side of the closet door. I prefer my monsters to keep themselves in the closet.
   I managed to shovel down through two feet of the piled up slushy snow when my daughter's school bus arrived. The bus driver told me there was flooding everywhere he had been. I grinned. "Not on my watch!" I announced. "And not on my corner!" He smiled back at me the way you smile at some people, hoping they don't become any more unstable than they already are. I went back to my shoveling with my daughter holding the umbrella somewhat over me.  Probably not much point as my coat was pretty well soaked, but it was the principal of the matter. After about 15 minutes of chopping the icy mess and hearty shoveling I broke through! I had hit pay sewer! Water began to trickle, then flow as I broke more and more of the slushy ice and snow away.  I sent my daughter home to put together an afternoon snack for us and I finished clearing away the rest of the blocking snow and ice. As I walked back across the street to my house, the water was rapidly receding and the street was visible once more.
   The next day it snowed. And got cold. Not arctic cold, just single digit cold. No minus signs involved. Regular winter cold. And I was pleased that our corner was not a huge ice patch that would require emergency vehicles to clean up large piles of car debris from the drivers who think that our residential street has a speed limit of 45.
   Slowly we returned back to our "normal" winter routine. Well, mostly.
   Till now.
   Two days of no school and brutal subzero temperatures that make the Arctic look inviting. Seems like we have been through this before. Except this time my husband and I managed to break up the snow and ice on our driveway before the freeze set in. And we had clear skies with no snow being brought in by the high winds that accompanied the freezing temperatures. On a whim, I did a Google search to see if there was anywhere colder than here. I found that Sibera had a chilly temperature of -65° F.
I felt so much warmer. School promises to be open again tomorrow and the temperature could rise all the way to 20° F. A regular heat wave!
   I tense. I have not been out to shovel the sewer out on the corner. Is there rain in the forecast? Even though it has been clear all day, I swear I hear the sound of a snowplow. I see myself slipping back into the time stream, clearing the sidewalk on the bus corner from the drifted snow. Making sure the sewer drain is free from ice. Then quietly sitting on the rocker on my front porch, bundled up in my coat and snow pants, mittens, scarves and hats. Rocking slowly back and forth, my trusty Red Rider BB gun across my lap, watching for the snowplow....

Until I slip between the minutes again.

   I thought perhaps when I woke up this morning and the temp was -14, that I had moved to Anchorage. Then I checked again, and realized it was warmer in Alaska. About 45 degrees warmer. I think I should consider migrating. Unable to snuggle down in the blankets again (you have to turn off the alarm clock if you want it to stop making noise), I rolled out of bed and into pajama pants and slippers and went down to see if my darling daughter was up. Usually on school days, I have to prod her out of bed, but since school was called off today, I found her wide awake and admiring the frost on her window. Go figure.

   So why are we getting up early if there is no school? I told my friend Jamie I would watch her two girls so she could go to work. Now if her kids misbehaved all the time and were nasty, I could be sleeping in right now. But Nooo, they have to be nice, well behaved kids.  The kind you like to have at your house for a long play date. So we are up.

   I ventured downstairs to check on the rest of the house I had bundled up the night before. Bird all warm and toasty with her heating pad and two blankets. Water still dripping in the utility room sink (check) and the kitchen sink turned on without hesitation! (I had taken the precaution of opening the cabinet doors in the kitchen and putting a space heater in front of the sink.)  And the thermostat read 73. Yay for me, I finally figured out how to program the thermostat to the temperature I want!

  Now time to make the muffins. Yep, I was making blueberry muffins for kid and her friends, due to arrive shortly. Pulled out the blender and read the directions on the box. What? You weren't expecting Betty Crocker were you? I am not a morning person, and certainly not to be confused with Martha Stewart. You won't see me opening a Bed and Breakfast anytime soon. Now Bed and Lunch you might be talking. Bed and Supper is more like it. Go to Bed and Have Dessert is more my style! Twenty minutes later, house smelled wonderful and we had muffins. Very tasty muffins, thank you very much. There are wonderful things that can be done with a box and a blender.

   Kate had already set the table and was on friend watch at the picture window. I put on my snow pants, my coat, ear muffs, boots and gloves and wrapped a blueberry muffin in a dish towel. When the mini-van arrived, I shuffled out to the car to deliver the "morning muffin" to my poor friend who had to go into work, then scurried back in with the kids before I got too cold. Too late, I had a definite chill. The kids, smelling fresh baked muffins, got out of their snow pants and into the kitchen before I did. But I had the better of the deal as I had a hot cup of French Vanilla Cappuccino waiting for me and they didn't.  So there.  I sometimes enjoy the perks of being an a work at home parent, even if there is no salary.

   Looks like I am sliding back into the time stream where mountains of laundry lurk and kids only need you when you are in the bathroom. See ya again when I get time between the minutes.