Brian Matuszak column: It’s warm now, but don’t be fooled by Mother NatureSo what’s with all the mounds of white stuff around the Twin Ports? No, not the whipped cream on Kevin Jacobsen’s strawberry crepes. I’m talking about all the snow we’ve received this winter.
So what’s with all the mounds of white stuff around the Twin Ports? No, not the whipped cream on Kevin Jacobsen’s strawberry crepes. I’m talking about all the snow we’ve received this winter.
Seems like every square-inch of this town is currently buried under fifty feet of snow. And like a good-night kiss from a needy Rush Limbaugh, it’s cold, wet, and sloppy.
If you ask me — and Adam Clark most definitely did NOT — we got too much of the frozen winter precipitation this year. Sure, it’s good for Spirit Mountain, but what about the rest of us? The only hills I like to tackle are alive with the sound of music or are holding up a Miller Mall.
Let’s face it. Last year, our Northland winter was browner than a chocolate-covered beaver, and twice as welcome. The weather was so mild, it felt like tempting fate to even spell the word “earmuff,” and it didn’t take long for me to fall out of my regular December-through-April rhythm (bundle, shovel, unbundle, dethaw, repeat). But this year I’m frozen, flustered, and freaked out. What’s with these frigid temperatures? Where did I put that stupid shovel anyway? Who built this snowman in my front yard and why does he bear an uncanny resemblance to Parson Brown?
Eventually, I found the shovel underneath some dusty mukluks, and have now moved more white powder around than Scarface. But it keeps coming back! I’ve shoveled so much this winter that the only way I’m going to be able to swing a golf club this summer is up and over my back, which would be an improvement. And I’m running out of places to put this frosty devil water. Last year, we had so little snow, I was able to pack it in individual boxes and mail it to some Facebook friends in Argentina. But this year, I’m already running out of spots. The front and back yards are full. The garbage cans are crammed. I suppose I could try tossing it onto my neighbor’s roof, but that spot’s already groaning more than a teenager at the Coolest Star Wars Parents Contest.
I guess if it snows again this spring, I’ll have to go with Slushy Plan B: fill some cups with the mushy ice glop, call them West End Slushees, and sell them in the Heritage Center parking lot before hockey games to Kevin Jacobsen.
And then quit kissing Rush Limbaugh.
Brian Matuszak is the co-founder of Renegade Comedy Theatre, founder of Rubber Chicken Theater, and secretly knows his daughter is proud of him for winning the Coolest Star Wars Parent Contest. Who else wears a Han Solo muffler while shoveling on Eighth Street and waving at every car with both hands like he’s just found a frozen tauntaun? Not counting Don Ness.