It was the weekend before Valentine’s Day that the snow finally and fully disappeared from the evergreen branches outside my apartment, where it had been laying thicker than a bird’s nest since slamming us the prior weekend.
It had caked my head as well on Wednesday, when I was caught outside for more than just a couple of blocks.
I’d looked at the forecast and saw a prediction that temperatures would be near 50 degrees as a high, and since I’d been doing laundry and all my jeans were still damp, I donned of all things a pair of shorts for my walk as the sun was dipping.
The jaunt proved daunting, and the weather doomed my bare legs.
— If you want a quick fix, as in sharing a glance or even a hello, with your fave player, things could be getting either more or less difficult. We’ll make a quick call involving Kirill. He now has bought a residence, not holed up in an intentional way in a flat, and his English skills are getting better at even a far greater current rate than that of hat tricks — and that’s saying something. So talking a bit of hockey, hey how ’bout the Penguins who are found on ice also, would be easier. But uhm no, he’s been said to be dating someone, seen together with a Russian model, though likely not in St. Paul. And where did some Wild players go for the NHL all-star break? Not too many stayed in the Twin Cities or its (wide-ranging) vicinity, unless braving the cold for a day or two if so compelled. But Toronto? And there could be Replacements, from the partly closed and small circuit of cool local clubs, where people can get to know people in our small burgs, as this is Minneapolis, etc.
To wit, AP or as he is called AD, can do more than rush the football to record-setting levels, as with the Vikings. He even hit a home run in a Texas, his first home base although he wanders, celebrity contest around the time of the Super Bowl, so he’s still got it and that is from the killer workout routine that comes with such ADHD abilities, as I cited. He too just can’t stay away from the game(s). But in Vegas, where most things stay, he was seen being stumbly after the Super Bowl and after a night of partying, to build my case for those who have an unceasing desire to mingle with their fans …
And Zach Parise, too, has said he will call it a night after his fall to Colorado and thus retire, to get back to the home stomping grounds …
And where do stories come from? A two-woman hockey site called BarSides, I think, cited that some info came from being at local dinner with someone who was in the know, close to the situation/team. And another site also has a root word that beckons of bars … where as Blondie said, the people meet. Over shock, or punk rock? —
But even Saturday morning, I saw a gent who must have spent a similar time in the laundry room, as he was walking down the main drag in also, shorts that did not reach down to his knees. This was again, a couple of blocks to the north of the main business area, where The Bees Knees boutique had been selling Valentine’s Day goods earlier in the week. Saw the same shorts when the temps were in the single digits, on Sunday night.
Come that midweek, as mid-afternoon turned to later-afternoon, weather had still be mild. But when the time arrived to be having dinner with your Valentine, the wind and snow had arrived, seemingly out of nowhere.
So went I’d made my entire headway while heading north, and went to wipe off and got to the bathroom mirror, I saw my whole forehead and sideburns and sweatshirt were caked in wet snow, almost to the point of obscuring facial features. I wondered what my lady-friends must have thought when they saw me walk in. I must say I felt conspicuous as I sat at the bar counter and quaffed by beer. When I had walked along, I felt very often a click of my heals as ice throlled up to hit my ankles, now bare.
I recall thinking that during an earlier in the Month-Of-Love windstorm, that same ride on that “Nordeaster” had again come into play, as a sign for a neighboring business, called in part the Northwestern, again dropped to the ground temporarily. It was a victim of the weather rollercoaster for a second time in the past year. And still today, the wind wafts on.
Valentine’s Day-less this time around, I had gone out for a drink by myself. That made me of course a definite minority. But many of those duos, and the occasional trio, were people of the same sex, and they did not look to be getting intimate enough to be gay. So if dateless, go out with a same-sex bud, apparently.
Over in New Richmond, where it seemed the weather was far worse than in Hudson, the young waitress at the local club was well dressed for the holiday occasion, although she was on duty, with the same bright color on both her blouse and pants, hair ribbon and earrings, fingernails and belt. Off of that pattern, though, by wearing off-white shoes the color of my legs. She was appreciative of me complementing her on her pinkness, and spun around cutely and bopped away after thanking me.
I also got thanks from the bartender, a longtime friend of mine, to whom I handed a card that was kind of cheesy, about a supposed “party RSVP” that I dubbed Really Special Voluptuous Person.
The day before, at that place that says love if you are too short on cash for the flower store, WalMart, men were out doing what men do right after work on Feb. 14. If a bit harried and in a hurry.
Don’t they have it in this aisle anymore? I heard this said, or said it myself, at least four times.
I swear it was right here! Did they move all the stuff like it again? From last year?
Look closer, a wise man said to other shoppers, some a bit frazzled.
There were many different versions, and what the end result would be, of “the same old story, all over again. You turn a lover into just another friend …”
It kept coming up, in different store places, Where They Might Have Had Blue Light Specials. But not Lite beer with a similar-color label.
A little girl said to her dad, who looked incredulous, “I know just what mom knows she wants.” They were in the candy aisle, edging toward God know’s what …
A tot and her father in next main aisle over, had much the same conversation.
Then came a heavy-set black woman looking for … what for her man, followed by I much say a much hotter black-haired one also searching, who said she couldn’t find what she was looking for either, and then wandered down toward the checkout counters, then back toward me, then back away again for a few feet .. and then found her candy of choice, a dozen small pieces in a sack.
A last lady also looking, on the far end of the store, said and lingered on the subject that she was running out of time, but apparently not people to talk to.