The creature(s) beneath my porch came to me in a dream. I opened the front door, and there on the front steps were two or three of these things. They were dark, hairy, with tufted ears that stood up, their bodies about the size and shape of a small dog. But they were growling and menacing, and somehow in my dream, I thought of them as a cross between a wolf and a rabbit. (Maybe Jimmy Carter's rabid rabbit from so many decades ago?) I don't know what Tazmanian Devils look like (unless you count the cartoon version), but that might have been what they were. Who knows? I shut the door quickly and woke up.
We watched the Grammy Awards last night. It was surprising that Amy Winehouse walked off with so many awards. She's the newest drug-addled slut singer, this time from England. I guess our own Courtney Love and Britney Spears are old news. People go on and on about her "unusual" voice, but all voices are unusual when the singer is stoned. In a way, she sounded like an anemic version of the great Tina Turner, who actually performed last night. She was not as strongly voiced as she once was, but even so, she could outsing so many of the other thin-voiced belles of the moment. Seriously, in ten years, won't so many of these current "stars" be forgotten? After all, who remembers Paula Cole from the 1998 Grammy Awards? I don't. (In fact, I had to look it up.) But I DO remember the magnificent Aretha Franklin from that same awards show, when she stepped in for Luciano Pavarotti and sang opera. Aretha performed again last night. Nobody can top her. She's not losing anything vocally. I don't know how she does it.
One duet last night that blew me away (forget that pathetic "duet" between an old Frank Sinatra clip and a live Alicia Keys) was between Josh Groban and Andrea Bocelli. I sensed a bit of competition between these two incredible singers, with Andrea's voice clearly the more mature and controlled of the two, but Josh was able to accompany them on piano as they sang a song that Josh is known for. I wanted a standing ovation, but the crowd wasn't as moved as I was. Boors. They were much more interested in the attention-hogging rap artists who seemed to feel as if the show was their own personal forum for airing whatever they felt like airing. I rather liked it when Vince Gill crowed that his award had been given to him by one of the Beatles (Ringo) and asked Kanye West if he'd ever had that happen to him! Of course everyone felt sorry for Kanye because of his mother's death, but the man milked it for what it was worth. He actually sang a song to her and didn't tear up at all, but I felt like my strings were being jerked, so I was not about to grant him any tears of my own. (Hubby did, though. He's such a sap.)
It's another frozen day in Lake Snow-be-gone. School and event closings are numbering in the hundreds (wouldn't it be quicker to list what's open?). Of course, the colleges are open, which means that poor spouse is out snow-blowing so he can get his car out in a bit. I'm glad I have nowhere to go today (glad I got my hair cut on Saturday, too!), but already I'm concerned about the roads tomorrow, when it's supposed to be snowing again. I'm less worried about the roads being icy than I am about white-out conditions. There was a fifty-car pile-up yesterday that was the result of drivers unable to see. The police forces on all levels, from town to state, were begging people to stay home, not drive, but of course, that means "other people" and not "me." As a consequence of that idiotic attitude, a 19-year-old and a 12-year-old are in critical condition today after sliding on a nearby street and colliding with another vehicle. The teen was the driver, and I'd be surprised if speed weren't a factor.
I have a sneaky feeling that this is going to be one lo-oo-oo-ong winter. Cabin fever, anyone? Dr. S.
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