: life as a popsicle :

I’ll be straight with you: I’ve been AWOL for a week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. But it seems longer to me, more like a month or six weeks. The thing is, I can’t shake this damn blunk (my shiny, new word for blog funk). It hangs on like a cold sore.

I can’t think. I can’t concentrate. My mind wanders like a gypsy.

Every afternoon I park myself in front of the computer and watch the cursor blink-blink-blink-blink. After a while I get bored and wander away, distracted by dust collecting on the television screen. Or the dog needing a bath. Or cookies in the kitchen. Or Super Mario Bros.

I almost resorted to the vacuum cleaner a couple of times, that’s how desperate I was. Instead I learned to balance a pencil on my nose — it’s easy once you get the hang of it. I wasted most of one morning watching snow fall out of the sky and the afternoon watching Mr. Snowblower Dude shoot it straight back up.

I blame the weather for this listlessness. Everything in my brain is frozen. My synapses and neurons have all snapped shut against the cold, blocking any and all traffic in the region. Last night it was four measly degrees outside and only marginally warmer inside. The wind chill was seven below zero. Both are Fahrenheit readings. Today it’s warmed up to nineteen, with a wind chill of nine.

On a positive note, the violent shivering and teeth chattering is giving me quite a workout. My lips have a blue tinge, sans lipstick.  Plus, I have enough static electricity to light a strip mall.

Temperatures aren’t supposed to be this cold. Nothing should be this cold. Okay, test tubes and Walt Disney and martinis, but nothing else. I’ve heard hell is hot, but not a place you’d want to visit. Well, neither is this. If hell had an airline I’d be packing my bags. Think it’s smoky there? Who cares, I’ll take a Glade Plug-In. And a flame resistant bathing suit. And Tums, I bet the food’s spicy.

You know, at this point even heartburn sounds good.

Copyright © Publikworks 2012

20 responses to “: life as a popsicle :”

  1. Enough static electricity to light a strip mall? I love it. It sounds like me. And we’ve come full circle, as this was the topic that brought me to your blog.

    If there’s a block going on in your brain, it’s not obvious :)


    1. Hi, Freshly Pressed Angie!

      I’m embarrassed to tell you how long this post took. At the rate I’m going, I’ll crank out 8, maybe 9 posts a year. I just hope it’s not permanent.

      PS. I covet your memory.


  2. Time for sauna, I guess ;)


    1. Hello, vodajevoda, it definitely is time for a sauna. In fact, I think I’ll move in to one ; )

      I know how busy you are with your brilliant photography and all, so thank you for taking the time to stop by. I appreciate it, you little genius.


  3. This is seriously not fair . . . your popsicle is better than my best post. Popsicles are good,


    1. Hi, ww! I’ve read your posts and I’m not even half as good as you. I adore your blog. I really, really do.

      You’re right, popsicles are good, especially blue raspberry. I like banana popsicles, too, but they’re so hard to find. I’m happy you stopped by, I hope you’ll be back.


  4. I know that exact feeling, which I’ve been experiencing with blogging lately. I’ve managed to continue but it’s been a real challenge. My life is just a tad mundane for someone who blogs about myself. I’ve been fiddle faddling around for something to say.


    1. Isn’t it discouraging? I tried and tried, but nothing worked. So I did the next best thing, I blamed the weather. What’s it going to do, call me a liar?

      Well, I’ve got to get back to staring at the cursor. Stop by again, okay?


  5. That right there is beautiful prose. I actually caught a cold because I left the window open overnight, and the weather decided to be diabolically gelid that night. Great post! Cheers.


    1. Hi, Jan, what a wonderful thing to say.

      I’m so sorry about your cold, they’re miserable things. So keep your window down, get plenty of rest, and drink lots of fluids. Most importantly, don’t trust the weather! I think it’s out to get us.

      Please stop by again and get well soon.


  6. God that is cold! RUG UP!!! c


    1. Hi, celi, I need more rugs! How are you getting along in your neck of the woods? You have to be just as cold.


  7. Well you’ve been missed, yet I understand blunk. Still, since my blog is also the newsletter for our farm stand customers, I have no choice but to write it every week. (The thought of consistently coming up with something more often than that gives me a chill, even though it’s 70 degrees here). Sometimes it works out; others, I cringe and blush as I click the Post button. See? You’re lucky. You may be dealing with a bit of frustration and guilt for not blogging as often as you’d like, but at least you don’t have to suffer the heartbreak of humiliation. Or wait, it’s the heartbreak of psoriasis, isn’t it. And considering how dry your winter air is up there, maybe you do.


    1. Thank you, Jo, that’s nice to hear.

      Somebody told me once that we have higher standards for our own work than the people who eventually see it. We see where we stumbled and what we could have done differently, they don’t. I’d be willing to bet your customers think all your posts are terrific. They are, you know. I read the one about your late fall / early winter vegetables on Facebook and was totally impressed. You do a great job, Jo.

      But the mention of it being 70 degrees there? Did you have to rub it in?

      ; )


      1. Thank you Lisa! I take that as a big compliment, coming from you. I think your posts are the greatest — yours is the first non-farm related blog I’ve subscribed to.

        Sorry about the 70. I couldn’t help myself. When it’s 100 degrees here in May and you’re enjoying a mild and beautiful spring, you can stick your tongue out at me.


        1. Spring is coming, isn’t it? I tend to lose sight of that in this bone-chilling weather. I’m so glad you subscribed, jo, you’re a hoot. I love the way you look at things.


  8. I’m with you, Lisa. For me, the year seemed to start in a blunk. One reason I decided to take a photo-a-day was to give me something else to post rather than words. At the time, I thought pictures would be easier than words. (It is not always the case.)

    Then, in an effort to motivate and build muscle, I got involved in Flash Fiction challenges, which provide ideas and a sense of competition.

    Still, I’m not cranking out any award winners, but I’ll keep the ritual going. I enjoy the release too much to quit.

    The temperatures you describe are awful. Getting out of bed is so challenging in the winter – due to frigid air that awaits.

    P.S. Once again, I really enjoy your writing style. Your descriptions are fun.


    1. Hi, Lenore, we should go out for a drink and commiserate together. I probably should have tried the photo-a-day, but I don’t have a camera other than my phone. Nor do I have your talent for photography. Or writing, for that matter. I think you’re swell.


  9. Well, it’s 60 here and I’m bitching about the wind. Too windy. I don’t think we’re ever happy, either too hot or too cold or too windy or too humid, or …however, a wind-chill of nine is a bit much to deal with. Just think, it will be summer soon and they’ll be talking about the heat index. Think warm thoughts, I hear it helps.


    1. When I put on my glasses this morning they fogged up. Inside. That’s how cold and drafty this place is; there’s a breeze in here. Oh, well, at least I’m inside — sort of.

      Thanks for the encouragement, you’re a nice man.


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