I was going to write a nice, chipper column about spring coming -- you know, birds singing, snow melting, the sun rising high in the sky...all that stuff.
And then came the daylight saving change. Personally, I never like daylight saving time. I'd be willing to "Fall Back" every year for the rest of my life, but I'm just not a "Spring Ahead" guy. Monday morning I got up in the dark, stumbled downstairs, turned on the news and heard a blizzard warning.
Okay, technically no one said the word "blizzard," but the weather guy did mention eight inches of snow and 40 mile per hour winds, which seemed fairly...wintery.
When I say it's not fair, I'm not even talking about myself. It's just so sad to watch the chickens. They've been venturing outside the last couple of weeks, picking their way between snow drifts and leaving their little footy prints in the mud, scratching for bugs that won't even hatch for another month and a half. How do I go out there and tell them we're going to get eight inches of snow moving horizontally out of the north at 40 MPH?
I wonder what newspaper columnists write about in San Diego? Let's face it, whining about the weather is about 35% of what I do. If you took away the weather, our chickens and my wife's dog, I got nothin' except a Motherâ€™s Day column once every couple of years. There certainly isn't much else in the world to write about. Some people might say the economy is a story. I'm not so sure -- a bunch of greedy, stupid people made a huge mess and now millions of folks who had nothing to do with making the mess are losing their jobs, and those of us who are lucky enough to have jobs are going to spend the rest of our working lives paying to clean up the mess.
And, that's the best case scenario. Worst case involves living on crab apples and mudhens while learning how to speak Chinese.
I suppose if I'm going to ignore the weather and the economy, I could write about Barbie turning 50 this year. That's in the news. I'm a fortunate man, for despite having two daughters, we were never a big Barbie household. Or, if we were a big Barbie household I was completely oblivious to it, which is just as good. What do you do with Fifty-Year-Old Barbie? Maybe Ken could show up as a Long Term Care Insurance Salesman. What was the little girl's name -- Skipper? Maybe Skipper could lose her job as a portfolio manager for Lehman Brothers and move into her big sister's basement to go through a mid-life crisis. I was going to suggest a Botox Barbie or Hair Plug Ken, but knowing American merchandising, they probably already exist. Enlarged Prostate Ken? Osteoporosis Barbie? I suppose even after 50 years there are still all sorts of opportunities to expand the brand, but probably not by me.
I just checked the weather. Now the weather guy is suggesting 11-17 inches of snow. That's higher than the chickens or the little dog.
San Diego is looking better and better.