On a good day, it's surprising that I don't have more callouses on my feet from dragging them so much. Took me forever to get my black belt, I'm still working on finishing my college degree, I was 40 when I finally decided to get married. So of course I waited until I'm approaching my mid-40's to have our first kid. And I want to tell you about it. Interested?
Editor's note: At the bottom of the article is the final tally of my personal 30-day fitness/activity challenge. I know I said I'd work-out every day, but to clarify for any folks who cry foul on the three days that I *missed* prior to my birthday on 12/25 was due to a respiratory infection/cold where I couldn't get a full breath and needed to call in sick to work. I was bedridden. And it suuuuucked. Otherwise, I managed to get in a least one hour of physical exercise daily, as promised. Even if it was Truffle Shuffling in front of the TV.
What did I learn/What changed? From the minute clinic visit, I learned that I still have high blood pressure. (And the doc was WILDLY excited to prescribe me meds for it.) I probably only lost 5 lbs. My clothes aren't looser. I still have a jowl-covering beard. I'm really quick to want to skip a walk when the weather gets cold. (Like last year, for the 55 full days it was below zero) I'm really tired (a lot. You try walking, running, then karate-ing all in one day. It's exhausting to commit to something like this without a rest day.), and the worst- I learned what my weight was after not having set foot on a scale in 2 years. Ugh.
Still?
I learned that I eat too much. If you're working out, a lot, and your weight doesn't go down then you need to observe other possible problem areas. Mine, in a word, was food. I love the shit out of food. And until I stood on the scale at the gym, I had no idea that the fuel I was taking in miiiight've been too much to process usefully. So, I learned portion control. (AJ is right- cutting a veggie burger in half and boxing it right away is dead useful versus scarfing the thing because it's in front of your face and you wanna stay a good member of the CPC.) Indian foods? The two close-by buffet that let you load up a Styrofoam box to bring back to work (and then eat the whole f#cking thing.) Going back for 2nds and (ok) 3rds? Not ok.
Also? Being goal-centric isn't too wildly difficult if you put it in a public context and create stakes. Basically I gave myself a doctor's "come to Jesus" moment versus getting that from a doctor after a diagnosis. One hour a day to move. Getting up from my desk to go for a scheduled walk instead of slouching in my chair over Facebook? I don't look forward to bundling up, but even I noticed that I'm a grand justifier/excuse-maker...so I started bringing extra layers. 2.5 to 3 miles walked every day. Boom.
And walking? Even briskly? Is a great way to mumble out my thoughts and get some simple exercise in during the day. A good way to have some QT with my girl. And it keeps me going outside and keeping my legs "road ready" during the Winter. I can tell you that I didn't run outdoors last year for almost 3 months. Now we're nearing January and I'm hoping to still be hoofing outside.
Lastly? The changes may be imperceptible, but I notice some of them more than others. My pants aren't really "loose", but at least I don't have the mild muffin-top I did before. I'm not as tired *during* my work day or needing to power through with a carafe of coffee. I learned that I could barely do half the pull-ups I used to be able to do (unassisted) and have started being able to get my carcass off the ground. More over? Getting ready to finish up some curriculum over the next 3 months as I head toward my black belt.
Portions. Keeping at it (daily) into the new year. Get enough sleep. I'm starting the Fast Diet twice a week in January. I promised my girl I wanted 3 months to see if I could get my weight down, which (I believe) will help take the stress off my heart. I have 2 months before I'm due in LV and CA for a vacation where I'll be schlepping in salt water topless. After that, it's just keeping at it. I think that's doable. I think that I'd like to have my insides be as healthy as my brain wants my outside to look. ("Hey! I bet he looks pretty good naked AND has lower blood pressure")
I think this is worth giving my new, 40-year-old body a high five.
(Not pictured: November 24th through 30th. Also, "Indoor" means "Karate" in Mapmyrun speak.)
It's less easy than I anticipated, but easier when I just tell myself to go for a walk instead of flopping down for a nap or internetting or Netflixing. Less easier still is dropping my portion sizes to something more "normal" and less "Jabba no portion". Also, there've been plenty of opportunities- being the holidays and all- to snarf wine...(sigh)
Still, I've managed to avoid most meat except a Christmas Party (which I regretted, deeply) and some seafood at a double date. That, and lunches have been a boring affair the last week or so- but I've stayed away from fast food/Chindian buffets and increased my strength training workout durations considerably. Dorajar gave me a tip on the "Fast Diet" which Ranch and I will be starting...more than likely after the New Year.
The biggest set back, so far, is that I deigned to weigh myself in my exercising hubris last week. It was...alarming. And I'll maintain my open and honest stance here and say it was one of those things that ratcheted my self-esteem down plenty. I'm just saying, if you're coming to my birthday party- a kind word or two goes a long way with me.
(Editor's note: Today's blog is going to be a little more introspective than most with some sensitive and honest material. If any of my five readers make it past the editor's note, I'd be surprised. If anyone takes something away from this, just remember that time is pretty precious and to love like you're emptying a pitcher into a shotglass. For the rest of you, enjoy the gifs.)
Guess what, true believers?
It's my BLOG-A-VERSARY!!!
That's right, kids. Just about TEN YEARS and a month ago, I started this little blaug as a way of following the trials and tribulations of home ownership. From there, it evolved to cover all sorts of rando material- memes, vacations, workouts, dinners (including a forgotten food blog), current events, and has been basically a brain dump for whatever casual observances I actually had the wherewithal to write down. That and what I could get away with while I was at the office during the day.
I should also mention that this also marks a very special upcoming birthday for yours truly- Lordy Lordy, on the 25th of December this frassy X-Mas baby turns 40.
I'm also grateful that I made it this far...a virgin. You're welcome, Mom.
Welp...I'm still in the house, 10 years later. There are still trials and tribulations, naturally. And rather than freak out about them, I take them in stride. (Or at the very least ignoring them until the last minute.) I've been re-financing, scheduled a bathroom remodel, and hosted 2 families for Thanksgiving. My newest roommate is also my partner of 2 years, and she and I are heading in the direction that most loving couples who co-habit venture...finding paint colors and duvet covers to agree on...ring shopping...yeah, you heard me. I'm gonna be forty. It's time to put away the baggy hand-me-down jeans and cartoon t-shirts that have been my jam for the last 40 years, stop being a flirty-scoundrel-petunia, fart jokes, and making off-color comments about swinging threesomes with open minded girlfriends to become mature and bonafide.
'Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we're going to Home Depot... Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time”.
And here you'll all say collectively "Riggggggggght. You'll be out combing the high school's for dates well into your 70's you old perv."
I have yet to find that terrible book my dad got in his 40's that was a cartoon guide to being a guy in your forties, with one of the caveats being that you may find yourself ogling teenage female cashiers when at the grocer...which is fuuuuuucked up. The only attention I really want at Cub is when a cashier finds coupons for stuff I'm buying. All right all right all riiiiight for discounts!
Ten years...man. There are other tribulations are what's been weighing heavy on my mind, of late. (Not just the fuckery in Ferguson or a "wrestling" choke hold being a justifiable way to incapacitate an unarmed man who is asphyxiating in NYC. I keep that kind of vitriol to my LJ, thanks.) I'm talking about shit like.. 10 years has seen my fair share of financial despair. I've lost a long term job, underwent the pathos of job searching, the death of my father- which still stirs occasional heartache FYI... the end of relationships, end of friendships, the death of two uncles, and the MOST recent- my mom's last cancer diagnosis and the RECENT diagnosis which has sent our remaining family into a difficult-to-right tailspin. (I won't elaborate about it here. To paraphrase Moloch from "The Watchmen" talking to Rorschach: "You know the kind of cancer that gets better? That ain't the kind of cancer she has". In the interest of sharing, we did end up getting some great news recently on the chemo treatment front, so I'd prefer to keep things on the upbeat. Also? If I despair? Back to kvetching and ugly-cry-writing on LiveJournal.)
Yeeeeeeah. Look, I don't put stock in 40 being a malignant signpost of aging. The stipulation people have put on aging has been dynamic and malleable over the last...uh...40 years or so. So that's not what I'm here to talk about. See...in the last ten years there's been some personal health frass. Let me explain-
So you know...I frass about health and wellness and exercise and chubs and moobs and blah blah blah...starting this off, and for a long spell my life has had that as an identifier. Dysmorphia and all that. I ran, lifted, watched what I ate, crunched, planked, and karate-d my way through my day to day. For the most part, and without actually being a personal trainer, I was pretty good at it. Back when, I was good enough to help folks focus on fitness. I would say I was mostly-to-partly disciplined. Later on, it was brought to my attention that my frassin' about working out, my fat ass, etc was a little obnoxious. And really, nobody likes to listen to the guy who's doing all the working out bitch about their own body and figuring that the dysmorphia was mine to own, I cut it out.
Seriously. Sure there were a few outbursts, but just like when I would post my runs on Facebook I was oblivious to it until it was pointed out to me. I figured I was getting a little more self-aware as I "matured" (snerk), and could afford to self-censor. Like people that run the Tough Mudder, people who are in Crossfit, eat Paleo, or any other health fad- the more you hear about it, the more you just don't want to hear about it.
Sorry friends. It was what I knew, ...y'know? Just...frequently unsolicited.
Coincidentally, when I stopped frassin' about it all the time (About 6 years ago) I had to retire my normal jean size that I'd been wearing...like, forever. I started foraging thrift stores for my current size and just shrugged. Sure, I'd still work out and stuff. I still believed that it was just that I wasn't working hard enough or eating right. I skipped getting massages because I didn't want to lay down on the bed like a beached whale, whatever that meant. So I'm a little soft. I can run a couple more days and be fine. And then I had to see the doctor. And shit sort of got real. At age 34.
I had an abscess. In a very tender place. That doctor visit gave birth to a physical which told me some not great news. I was 25 lbs heavier than I was in 2004. I had high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and I had to go back for repeated blood draws for elevated triglycerides. (They told me it could be cancer, diabetes, etc. They just didn't know. I'd find out later what it was.)
I started unbuttoning my top pants button at work (I'm being honest, here.) Eventually I lost my job (NOT due to my weight, thank you) and instead being poor of getting lean in the Dickensensian sense, I got larger. And I noticed. A few friends who lacked filters commented on my growth and out of shapedness. My family and loved ones were always supportive and didn't really care. Then my dad died. I started getting mega stressed. I'd start sweating with any little piece of effort. My breathing was occasionally labored. And I still had my brain convinced that I was in high school and just needed to jog a little more. Fuck yeah.
I'm going to further confess that when my girlfriend started training to run her first half-marathon, I had sugarplum dreams of getting lean again, and maybe some definition. After all, I still ate low-fat and fat-free foods! Most of my diet was vegetarian! I was running! A lot! Many Miles! My brain said that I was an athlete and fuck...YEAH! FITNESS!
I posted this before, but it bears repeating: There is no runners high. This is a man who is out of touch with what it means to run a race and is dangerously close to vomiting on his New Balance. And having bloody nipples. Check out the tummy overhang.
Oh. I figured it out eventually. The missing component. The piece that said "You are hamstringing your own efforts!" I probably should have figured it out sooner, or at least stopped ignoring it. I mean, it was only a couple of times co-workers smelled my boozy previous night's happy hour emanating from my body. Or suffering insomnia and doing a couple of shots to knock myself back out at 3am. Or shotgunning a beer before running a 10K. Or not being able to hold down food and throwing it up over lunch. Or going up on lines during shows, not passing licensing tests because I was nursing my 3rd vodka tonic while I studied, or having a cocktail or 2 before going to meet friends for happy hour or a party or seeing a play. ("You drank BEFORE you went to happy hour?" Well duh. You're drinkin' anyway.)
Or the time- and this is funny- my mom saw it in my glassy, piggy, bloodshot eyes. Yeah. The boozin' was starting to steamroll. And I was a creature of habit. And if it wasn't for my body starting to rebel (see aforementioned vomiting and runny stool), I'd probably be a little on the dead side. Or cirrhotic. Or drinking sterno.
Anyway. Point is, I found the trigger and changed it. (Hooray for me, guys. 4 years and I've been avoiding hard liquor like it's a speed trap. The shitty thing is that even beer and bubbles upset the old tum-tum, but whatever.) And hey! Within the last year or so I've made a conscious decision to make getting my black belt a priority. When mom's first cancer diag came about, I cut out soda with aspartame. Then- worrying about seeing friends fighting their own battles with cancer decided that fat-free/diet anything was probably a bad call with all the chemicals in shit. However-Two bad winters in, and my own level of activity petered out but good. Netflix and Roku and binge watching TV became my new friends. I resumed eating more meat (I NEED IT TO REPLENISH MY BODY!) and forgetting to portion. And then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror during my uncle's funeral and I was like "Fuuuuuck..." as only the be-jowl-d says when they see love handles. Over their "fat pants".
And then another doctor visit had the same shit. High blood pressure, high cholesterol, and the one note that I hated: "Try and lose weight". What happened to me? What the natural fuck happened to me. It was like, my manic energy at hating myself fueled my discipline? I have to be mentally unhealthy to stay healthy healthy? I started re-finding excuses to "not" do things. An injury during sparring meant I was out of karate for 2-3 months and negated my original momentum. So did getting theater gigs ("No time, no time!") and, to my shame? So did mom's last diagnosis. She needed me to cook for her. To help clean. Who has time to run when you've people counting on you?
And then...after 10 years of ups, downs, drunk episodes, diets etc. a couple of things happened in short order. 1st, I started reading a book* that was both motivating and eye-opening in a way that "Born to Run" had been when I needed a boost to start running "right" a few years prior. Then, I noticed that my vintage scary mortician tuxedo I wear during my scary Halloween tours? With the adjustable waist? I couldn't fasten them. On top of *all* that?
A few friends and acquaintances of mine passed away in fairly short order. Due to bad habits...from a heart attack after an accident...and from battle with cancer. Fucking cancer. Guys who were all around my age. A local woman's blog about her love story (with inoperable brain cancer) to her husband came to an end with his recent passing.
Suddenly I had started to notice that my breathing was also getting labored after a big meal. I had a tingling in my fingers. I couldn't stretch or run distances. I had returned to the land of the great out of shape. Moreover, I needed to acknowledge that I am/can be/could be a candidate. For heart disease. (Dad/Uncle) MS. (Uncle) Cancer (Uncle/Mother/Grandparents). Dad was 46 when he first went in for his angioplasty. My brother had a couple of pre-cancerous spots removed. Leave it to mom to remind me that tingling fingers could be indicative of MS. Suddenly my brain went and short circuited. Cancer's unpredictable fuckery notwithstanding, I spent part of my 20's fake baking. I didn't use sunblock all the time. What if that one last strong cocktail made me cirrhotic? What if I have arterial blockage? The cyst in my arm or chest is cancerous? Have I pooped too much and is that dark brown? Does that mean blood or just that I had a beet salad? Those moles look weird. Fuck fuck FUCK!
For the record, no. I don't check WebMD. Ain't nobody got time for that.
Ok. Still reading? Here's where the accountability comes into play. I've been playing this game with myself now for the last 10 years. It's not yo-yo dieting, it's a yo-yo, convoluted, delusional mindset. A greater sense of healthy well-being than I actually can cop to if put on the stand. A better martial artist than I am because my form is better than a few people at my school. Better shape because I'm not concave-chested or pot-bellied. Because I ran that one time. (C'mon. I haven't run a race since April.) I've been coasting by saying "I don't eat sweets/desserts" and I eat a plant-based diet without giving a thought to portion sizes/restraint. To snacking on cheese a lot. To snarfing a couple of glasses of wine nightly. I'm fessing up here. And it doesn't feel good. It feels like I've been cheating myself. Because the only singularity entering my 4th decade that I can bank on is that I can control my environmental factors only in relation to my own health and wellness. After that, I'm pretty much fucked. But until then, I know I can control how good I feel about myself. Dig? I'm not beating myself up here, so just listen another sec-
So here's what I'm gonna do, and just so you think I'm not this voice in the ether making it up I can promise you that...I started 8 days ago...(Get it? I just monologue and my evil plan is ALREADY IN MOTION!)
30 days before my fortieth birthday, I promise that I will:
1) Abstain from alcohol up to, and possibly beyond my 40th year.
2) I will not beat myself up if I cheat on number 1 now and then. (Quitting for 60 days earlier this year? Felt pretty good, but it didn't result in the magic weight loss I thought it would. Go figure, you need to exercise more- even if it's 20 below every day)
3) I will commit to an hour of exercise every single day up to and possibly beyond my fortieth year. Even if it means I'm only walking for an hour. (My girl and I have already found our zen in bundling up on Sunday and going for a brisk stroll around the neighborhood.)
4) I will not miss a day. There will be no "Skip today and do two hours tomorrow".
5) I will find ways to be active at work. (About 2 months ago, I started going for 3 walks a day over my breaks and lunches. When the weather was nice, I even got up to 3 miles mapped out. With snow piles and ice, I'm down to 1.5 miles walking per day- but it beats sitting on my ass for 8.5 hours. I have become a work power walker. If you read that book? You'll see why you can't just stand and stretch once an hour. You gotta MOVE.)
6) I will get my black belt by 2015.
7) I will maintain a plant based diet to the best of my abilities up to and beyond my 40th year. (Exceptions being Thanksgiving, duh and other special occasions)
8) I will control my portions and enjoy my food. When I'm done eating, I'm done. Even if my plate is still full.
9) I will remain cognizant of my breathing and continue to breathe fully.
10)I will find a way to see my close female friends topless by the end of Summer 2015.
11) If you made it this far, you know that number ten is a joke. Mom.
12) I'll make good on seeing my doctor, being proactive about my health, and making sure I get the most out of their service.
13) I'll not make unrealistic expectations about my body, shape, and continue doing all of this for my heart and my brain.
14) I'll try and keep a good attitude about all of this, not mire people with my bullshit list, and do my best to ingrain this into my daily life. Daily.
The best thing I think I can brag about is that I do drink a lot of water on the daily. I think that helps keep things flushed. The next most important thing is that as long as I'm ambulatory under my own power, I need to keep my body moving. Moving means blood flow, increased capacity to oxygenate, and that- that in my weird framing means that my blood won't sludge and my body won't atrophy. I think this is a good thing. I want to enter my 40's strong, and there's a strong case these days that our bodies are hitting their stride by the time we get to them. I have a niece and nephew who I want to see graduate and have front row seats to their wedding. I have a girlfriend who wants to be a wife and have me around for a long time. I want to live long enough to see the Eiffel Tower and have a doofy photo taken next to that Tower in Pisa. I have a libido that'd like to keep doing the hunka-chunka without the need for a pill. (And a heart, and blood pressure, etc etc.)
I think this is going to be a good thing. It's been kind of hard so far, I won't lie. I really like napping, drinking merlot, and watching my stories with the cat. But I hope I can make good on it for the rest of my life. And not worry about looking like this unpopular douchebag.
I know I've used him before...but: "Pictured- a man who has nothing better to do with his days off outside of trying to add extra vascularity to his body"
*It's a seriously good read. I thought "Living Biblically" was fun and recommended. In "Drop Dead Healthy" I started to re-learn all sorts of crap that set the fire under my ass to get outside and move as often as I can. Sedentary living, if I may lecture a second, is one of the biggest health issues facing Americans today.
(Editor's note: This will contain your annually scheduled Minnesota Cold Weather/Winter kvetching that you may have come to know and love from myself and any other able bodied and vocal MN resident. I will do my best to reduce the number of "Game of Thrones" references, because originality...)
A few Sunday (Sundaes?) back, November 9th in fact, I was desperately raking the immense annual backyard dump-z-palooza of leaves from my oversized box elder tree into the evening dark. This, of course, was due to the weather reports threatening snowfall beginning the next morning. I had ran out of recyclable bags, so I was doing the terrible Minnesotan thing of pushing the massive pile behind the garage on the mulch with the rest piled over the garden bed. I actually had the wherewithal to cover the wood stack in the fire pit with a tarp, just in case a nice fire would ease the chill of Winter...in other news, I felt more or less ready.
Then, in 10 short hours I was up at the crack of dawn shoveling my walk. 8 hours after that? More shoveling. The next morning? More shoveling and a little salt. And then? The temperatures starting hitting unseasonable lows in the single digits. So far I've invested in 160 lbs of sidewalk salt and needed to ice/heat a neck/shoulders/lower-back that have yet to forgive me for this shitty onslaught of weighted push-pull manual labor.
...Huh. I seem to remember all of this happening much...much...later. Except for last year. And the year before that...and, and, and...
A couple of things started swirling and jumbling in my noggin and have jockeyed for a position in my brain space simultaneously so that I've been trying to calm myself with deep breathing and try and recognize them all individually, BUT...ADHD is making it hard to articulate.
So...here are: The facts
-The 2 brutal, back-to-back Winter's are stimulating a cringing "flight" response in my body this year due to the fact that we just finished a "below-average temperature" November. A physical flinch. Both coming off the heels of the unseasonable (and lovely) 2011-2012 Winter, (Which, to be fair, wasn't *so* bad after the Snowpocolypse in December 2010 into 2011.) The first- snowy to the point we thought it'd never end and last year's record-breaking sub-zero cold temps that meant we were below zero for nearly two straight months. Even though my blogging is, shall we say "thin"...I managed to blog about it at least twice here and here.
-2013-2014 has seen an unusually high exodus in my friend-base toward the West Coast, with 2015 seeing a few more buddies making the trek.* As we're all in film/theater/comedy etc it may seem like a no-brainer that folks head to LA-LA land to invest themselves in the business where it's hottest. I'm starting to wonder if self-preservation wasn't a large part of their decision either.
-My PERSONAL druthers when asked about a United States region that represents my spirit tends to lean toward my beloved Southwest (est. 1992), I will also confess a spiritual menage' a trois with my love of crashing surf, salt air, and the dream-inducing quality the Southern California coastline inspires within me. (est. 1992 as well.)
-I used to say that I hit my "wall" with Winter on approximately February 18th. I thought I had the date down to a science, as the heart-swelling feeling of goodwill and cheer the holiday/birthday season can carry me through the new year and Valentine's day, and my resolve screeches to a stop when the manic and dark month of February typically exposes us to our first *real* taste of consistent sub-zero temperatures. The kind of deep freezing temps in Minnesota that only snowmobile enthusiasts and ice-fisherpeople seem to enjoy with any real zeal.
-I say typically...as last year the angry, bitter cold held the kind of grip on my body and soul like a rogue shark pulling you hopelessly from side to side before dragging you down.
-We (here in the Cities) just experienced our first "pure" (non-wind chill) below zero evening last night...December 1st.
-I've been giving serious pause to asking my boss about the logistics of moving to Las Vegas in order to be closer to our corporate office and renting my recently re-financed house out.***
These are the words I ponder...listen to my voice.
My ladyfriend has moved in with me. Not having to brave two cities for canoodling this Winter could make it better. I've a land mark birthday coming up. As I'm not one to linger on the number, I'm hoping it results in a wealth of buddy-time on Christmas to fill my heart up until it slops over like an overflowing barrel on a ship deck during a storm. And most importantly- a majority of the weather people, Weather.gov, (certain) Farmer's Almanac reports, and friends who have an interest in meteorology agree- it's not gonna "Polar Vortex" our asses again.**** That's why it's called a "30-Year-Storm". That's why it hasn't been that bad since 1983, 1991, or 1995, 2010 respectively*****.
I'm hoping I can break down the wall. I am. I hate eating my own words, and I hate the idea of despair this early in the season. Hiiiiyahhhh!
*At least I'll have a place to crash, right? And buddies to visit? Buddies who seem to miss their Midwest frassers? That's my hope anyway.
**When visiting a friend in Las Vegas who was also performing 8 x's a week in one of the Strip's popular musicals, I remember asking if he missed all of the diverse theatrical opportunities in the Twin Cities to work on a pretty vanilla (albeit popular) piece of theater fluff. As these kind of responses are wont to do, it stuck with me: "What I miss is having independent coffee shops every few blocks and not just Starbucks and Caribou. What I don't miss is waking up to my knees and hips aching and having to periodically shovel my walk 6 months out of the year." #thisisforty
***I'm not. No. Even if I wasn't invested, I've a sick mother and a partner and home I love. Since this article would indicate I'm accustomed to eating my own words from time to time, don't be surprised if I do something shocking and uncharacteristic for this friendly neighborhood frasser.
****I recently learned that there is always a looming "Polar Vortex" in the Arctic Regions, and last year's stabbing into North America was just a one-off. They usually hang around Greenland. And as always, the good folks at Cracked say it better than I ever could.
*****These were the last couple of really, really shitty Winters that took place in my lifetime. And if it's one thing Minnesotan's love to do is recall shitty Winters like they were from Westeros. (1982-83 was one of 2 snow days I ever had from Kindergarten through college due to cold. And mom and dad still didn't get the memo and had me walk to school only to see that the doors were locked. 1991 was the "Halloween Blizzard" that nobody can shut up about, 1995-96 had another spate of sub-zero temps which- to this day -causes me to feel the need to start my car in the middle of the night if the weather report says it's going to get into double-digits below zero...and 2010-11 was the mighty snowpocolypse which caused your hero to wade through waist-deep snow in the middle of the street to make it to the LQ for wiiiiine.)
