Inklings

Category: seasons

  • Sledding

    They sure don’t make sleds like they used to. I still remember the old Flexible Flyer sled we had growing up. The powder-coated steel runners elevated the treated birch body off the snow high enough to ensure that there was minimal friction to slow you down. Combine this simple engineering with ideally packed snow and you had yourself a sixty inch snow torpedo. That flexible wooden steering plank mounted on the front gave the lead rider little, if any, serious control of a four-person team once they reached terminal velocity. As if this sled wasn’t dangerous enough, I can recall riding it down the middle of our steeply sloped street. Thankfully there wasn’t a lot of traffic.

  • Olympic Shoveling

    By now everyone’s heard about Mark Ladwig, the Olympic figure skater from Moorhead. Unfortunately for Minnesota residents, he’s better known by his nickname “Fargo” in the Olympic village — so by proxy us North Dakotans get any press (positive or negative) surrounding his performance in Vancouver. It’s not really a stretch to think that someone from the frigid north would excel at a sport that takes place on the ice (certainly not ironic like the Jamaican bobsled team). If the Olympic Committee ever decided to take a look at adopting Shoveling as an event, there would be far more athletes coming from North Dakota. We have the perfect training conditions for it.

  • Olympic Creativity

    I had the opportunity to watch the 2010 Winter Olympics opening ceremonies last night and I have to say it was pretty spectacular. Vancouver invested millions of dollars to host this year’s Olympic Games and it showed. It’s amazing to see the creative vision of so many talented individuals be realized. Equally impressive is the tradition of signifying each Winter Olympic Games with its own logo (hopefully, the NFL’s Super Bowl logo rationale doesn’t influence the Olympic Committee to change). It underscores the power of an effective logo, all while being simple and original. In addition to the Olympic rings, these individual symbols become a way to distinguish each locale and year from another. Sure the games would go on without them, but you can’t deny that they add a level of sophistication and brand class to the event.

  • Icicle Hunters

    The last thaw we had brought about some major water stalactites – also known as icicles. Our boys have become obsessed with hunting and harvesting the largest one. Any icicle-laden structure we drive past, no matter how far from home, instantly transforms our little hunters into beggars.

    “Whoa, look at the size of that one! Please, can we stop?! Please, please, please?!”

    “Um, that icicle happens to be hanging three stories off the ground, so at the risk of being impaled from above and possibly reported for trespassing, I’m going to have to say… ‘no’.”

    The result of our denying their far-reaching conquests for exotic, frozen water has pretty well gleaned the neighborhood of any hanging ice. Though not quite as sizable, the fruits of their local exploits get proudly fanned out on our porch like a set of fine cutlery. We’ve had to confiscate a few larger pieces from being brought into the house and stored in our freezer but overall, it’s good harmless fun. Thankfully, icicle hunting season – and winter – will soon come to an end.

  • Come Back in Five Months!

    I couldn’t help but notice the Schwan’s catalog this morning on the kitchen table. My wife flatly stated that he was coming tomorrow and began leafing through it. She wasn’t frantic, but I still detected a slight tone of purchase obligation; like we owed the Schwan’s man some business because we asked to be on his route. I realize that Schwan’s sells more than frozen treats, but part of me doesn’t exactly think “let’s get Schwan’s” when it’s -35˚ outside (the goods are probably warmer in the truck).

    Getting something from Schwan’s was a premium purchase that happened occasionally when we were kids. In fact, rather than deal with the guilt of turning down the Schwan’s man, we chose to hide behind the couch when he drove by. It’s like the Schwan’s man was some kind of professional beggar. A beggar who forewarned of his panhandling with a slick full-color brochure and handy bright yellow calendar sticker announcing his visits.

    Not much has changed, though this routine is a little too fresh to effectively teach the kids how to make it look like no one’s home. Hey, the stuff’s expensive and we live only blocks from a grocery store, so if we did buy something it would only be to help the poor guy having to drive around in this cold, going door-to-door peddling the Schwan’s processed food line. I’d just as soon see him when it warms up a little, but if I come home tomorrow to ice cream drum sticks or orange push-ups I won’t complain.

  • Winter Blues

    I knew it would happen eventually. The kids are officially bored with winter. It’s funny how just six months ago they were saying how much they were looking forward to the snow and cooler weather. To some degree their discontentment with the seasons is true for all of us, but as parents we don’t dare let on that we too are fed up with winter. Instead we encourage them to go outside and play in the ‘beautiful’ subzero playground that is our yard (because it’s what they begged for all summer long). They usually last a half hour before coming inside complaining that the snow is too icy to make anything with. I fear that it won’t be long before there is an outbreak of the severely contagious spring fever in the Thorenson household. Oh yippee.

  • Rodent Weatherman

    Button up! It looks like we have six more weeks of winter to endure. The Groundhog’s Day tradition is one of the most interesting and ridiculous ceremonies in American history. I’ve always felt that the conditions leading to the predictions defied logic. In my mind if the groundhog sees his shadow that would mean that there is plenty of sunlight outside — a condition more typical of spring-like weather. Instead it means we’re getting six more weeks of winter. And that six week length of time ain’t exactly something you can bank on either. It certainly isn’t adequate for North Dakota. I mean, look at last year — we had a blizzard a whole eight weeks after Punxsutawney Phil made his prediction. But then, how accurate can a weatherman who forecasts the weather once a year actually be?

  • Forecasting

    After the weather forecasts of last week, I fully expected to be buried in feet of snow today (I guess it could still blow in). They say weather is one of the most difficult things to predict accurately beyond a couple days so you have to give the weatherman some leeway when it comes to the seven-day forecast. It’s funny how much guff they get from us for “lying” about the weather. We should all be thankful for the times they forecast gloom and doom when actually we have a half decent day.

  • Seriously?!

    I don’t know about the rest of you, but the threat of global warming doesn’t seem real eminent right now! Even the Sunshine State is experiencing record cold with this Arctic Blast. Heck, the freezing cold temperatures were knocking iguanas out of trees. Don’t fret though, it appears much balmier weather is on the way. Tomorrow’s high is expected to reach a balmy 34˚ — that’s above zero, mind you. We may just have to crack a window or two!

  • “Real” Frustrating

    I can only think of maybe two years of my childhood where we had a real Christmas tree. Real trees are, without a doubt, the most beautiful, traditional and aromatic seasonal centerpiece to a home’s decor during the holidays. For some reason, those Christmases as a child seemed extra magical, perhaps because it was something we hadn’t experienced before. My wife was raised with “real” Christmas trees, so it seemed very noble to revive the Rockwellian tradition of choosing a tree, strapping it to the roof of the car, “planting” it in the living room, and trimming it all while sipping hot cider to the crooning of Bing Crosby’s “Oh Christmas Tree”. Little did I know, beginning this tradition turned our first six Christmases into a marriage-building exercise.

    Maybe my inexperience in choosing real trees was the reason for the frustration we faced nearly every year. One year we picked out a beautiful seven foot pine – only to have it stand five feet tall after having to trim the trunk so it could be erected straight in the tree stand. Another year we had our tree last about three days before it shed nearly all of its needles onto the floor, with our decorations barely clinging to the wooden skeleton. One year our tree’s trunk was so large it split, unknown to us, the plastic tree stand. Every time we watered the tree, we were also watering the carpet, the presents and, later, our antique hardwood floors (we found this out just a few years ago when we pulled the carpet up).

    Seven years ago, just a few weeks before Christmas, we picked out our first artificial tree. It’s a decision neither one of us has regretted. It always stands straight and tall, never needs watering, doesn’t shed a bit and the best part of all – it looks real. In fact, if we scrub the floors with Pine Sol you’d swear it was. I know there are a lot out there that lambaste the idea of a “fake” Christmas tree, but for us it is truly Peace on Earth!