Like a dutiful daughter, I called my Iowa people to make sure they were inside and safe and sound in this horrific winter weather. This is me, with my father on the phone.
Me: Hey are you out of this weather for good? Staying inside the next few days?
Him: Me? $#@! I can’t go anywhere. I can’t even see the ##@#$# barn!* I’m freezing my #@#$#@ off here.** Aren’t you supposed to be going somewhere?
Me: I don’t know if I am going to make it up to Canada or not. I thought the weather would have blown through by tomorrow, but they are saying things won’t clear until Friday.
Him: What’s the weather like there?
Me: I think it’s about 70 or so right now.
Him: Oh, go to hell, why don’t you? I’m hanging up now.
It’s fair to say that we are not a sentimental family, but that’s a little a harsh even for us.
*The distance from house to barn is roughly 25 yards. But it’s a really big barn.
**My father and I share a proclivity towards….ripeness… in the vocabulary when frustrated. However, when one looks at his weather map, it’s pretty easy to understand: