Unhinged Alaska: A call from Cuz

I just got off the phone with a slightly deranged cousin who lives back east where the snow is roaring out of the sky in the form of an avalanche.

He spent thirty minutes yipping about how long it took to find and extricate his new electro-mobile from a snow drift the size of a morbidly obese mastodon only to find the eco ride frozen solid. I haven’t heard him so torked since he discovered his pricey and pretentious bottled water came from a bathtub tap in New Jersey.

When his rant finally ramped down, he mumbled that he was so cold that he was afraid to bump into anything lest several of his extremely vital lower appendages shatter and abruptly terminate his chance of expanding the family’s lineage.

I offered my sympathies but said that I was a bit confused as to why he called because of a few feet of snow.

“A few feet of *&^%$#* snow?” he raved. “I’m standing on my *&&^%$% roof to get a cell signal you @&^%$##*.”

“My, my, Mr. Church Elder, I’ll bet you don’t talk to your Sunday school class that way. Get a grip.”

“Sorry, I lost it there for a moment. Anyway, I figured since you’re a seasoned Alaskan, you could give me some insight as to what you would do if you were getting slammed like this.”

“First I’d gingerly stuff some hot packs into my Jockeys and stand around until I could sit down without catastrophic breakage, then smoke south to Tobago for some snorkeling. As of now, I don’t see that happening bro; it’s been really mellow up here.”

“Oh sure, like, you won’t be running a blower just about daily until the end of March.”

“In fact I won’t, although we are giving some consideration to mowing the lawn. It’s been slowly sneaking up on us with these 45 to 50-plus temps. Conditions have been so mild that a couple wild pheasant roosters are convinced that it’s spring and have been zipping around the deck challenging each other like they both just pounded a gizzard sized serving of Viagra. It’s unseemly and an embarrassment to the male species. If they keep it up they are going to be invited to Thanksgiving dinner as cubed hors d’oeuvres served on gourmet picks along with wild mushrooms and alder smoked bacon.”

“Sounds beyond delicious, wait … what do you mean 50 degrees and horn dog pheasants? Are you hammered? What’s going on up there?”

“Nope, believe it or not, it has been warm and rainy most of the month. We did experience a small quantity of snow that stayed on the ground long enough for some guys to testosterone up their rigs with plows so huge they could have cleared major mountain passes, then poof, it was gone. Why don’t you beat feet to the beach house your grandpa left you in Key West until your dream rig thaws out enough that you can at least activate its hot plate option?”

“You know my lady is uncomfortable being around the type people she runs into down there. She’s much more comfortable at her local social club.”

“Who said anything about her going along?”

“You know, you haven’t been much help. My wife was right. She said I wouldn’t get a straight answer out of you because you’re a Neanderthal and have the sophistication of an uneducated peasant when it comes to dealing with crucial issues.”

“Oh come on now, I suggested the hot packs and you had days of warning about what was headed your way. Why didn’t you have your weenie wheels in the garage along with your bride’s vehicle?”

“She doesn’t have a car!”

“I’m talking about her broom.”

Click.

I admit the conversation could have gone a bit smoother but my cousin, to put it delicately, lacks the common sense to fire up his honkin’ Honda 36-inch snow blower while he can still find his equipment storage shed and make out the snow silhouette of the top of his neighbor’s 3500 Dodge dually.

The man has lived in the same place for 9 years but always seems stunned when Mother Nature hoses him with a mass of white so deep that he has to let his dogs out a second story window to pee.

If he could get his spouse to take a break from the Kardashians and scope out the weather forecasts once in awhile he wouldn’t have to use Skype for his church classes.

Just to be a good guy, I called him back to tip him off that the Weather Channel was declaring that his area should prepare for another three feet of snow.

Once he comprehended what I was saying, there was a gurgle like someone was choking on a mouthful of lutefisk and then a muffled argument about heading for Key West followed by a proposition on what sounded like an extremely uncomfortable use of a broom before the phone went dead.

I think it would have been better for my cuz if his grand pappy had passed on a Mother Lode of sense rather than cents.

Nick can be reached at ncvarney@gmail.com if he isn’t busy weed whacking.

More in Life

Robert C. Lewis photo courtesy of the Alaska Digital Archives 
Ready to go fishing, a pair of guests pose in front of the Russian River Rendezvous in the early 1940s.
The Disappearing Lodge, Part 1

By the spring of 1931, a new two-story log building — the lodge’s third iteration — stood on the old site, ready for business

Viola Davis stars in “The Woman King.” (Sony Pictures Entertainment Inc.)
On the screen: Women reign in latest action flick

‘The Woman King’ is a standout that breaks new ground

Artwork donated for the Harvest Auction hangs at the Kenai Art Center on Tuesday, Aug. 30, 2022, in Kenai, Alaska. (Jake Dye/Peninsula Clarion)
Auction, juried show to showcase local talent

Kenai Art Center will host its annual Harvest Auction this weekend, juried art show next month

Sweet and tart cranberry pecan oat bars are photographed. (Photo by Tressa Dale/Peninsula Clarion)
Cranberries to match the bright colors of fall

Delicious cranberry pecan oat bars are sweet and tart

Will Morrow (courtesy)
Take a chance

The fact of the matter is, you can find a way to hurt yourself in just about any athletic endeavor.

Alaska Digital Archives
George W. Palmer (left), the namesake for the city in the Matanuska Valley and the creek near Hope, poses here with his family in 1898 in the Knik area. Palmer became a business partner of Bill Dawson in Kenai in the last years of Dawson’s life.
Bill Dawson: The Price of Success, Part 5

Thus ended the sometimes tumultuous Alaska tenure of William N. Dawson.

File
Minister’s Message: Plenty

The Bible story of Joseph in Egypt preparing the harvest in the seven years of plenty teaches us some vital lessons

From left: Lacey Jane Brewster, Terri Zopf-Schoessler, Donna Shirnberg, Tracie Sanborn and Bill Taylor (center) rehearse “Menopause Made Me Do It” on Tuesday, Sept. 13, 2022, in Soldotna, Alaska. (Jake Dye/Peninsula Clarion)
Applause for menopause

Kenai Performers’ new play takes aim at ‘not the most glorious part of womanhood’

A still from “Jazzfest.” (Photo provided)
DocFest could be the golden year of documentaries — again

Homer Documentary Film Festival returns for 18th year with solid mix

Bulkogi Stew, a mixture of beef steak, potato starch noodles, green onions and broth, is enjoyed as part of the Korean harvest festival, Chuseok. (Photo by Tressa Dale/Peninsula Clarion)
A hearty stew to celebrate harvest and loved ones

Bulkogi Stew makes for a perfect drizzly Chuseok in Alaska

This is the only known photo of Peter F. (“Frenchy”) Vian and William N. (“Bill”) Dawson together. They were photographed standing on the porch of their Kenai store in about 1911-12. (Photo courtesy of the Kenai Historical Society)
Bill Dawson: The Price of Success, Part 4

One man who never seemed to get on Dawson’s bad side was Peter F. (“Frenchy”) Vian

Nick Varney
Both the rain and Numnutz gotta go

Normally wintering moose amble through during cold stretches and trim our dormant rows, but not this time