You know what really burns my brisket? Winter.
Yep – the whole season.
And in all fairness, I should change the title of this particular e-rant as usually by November, my brisket longs for a little burning.
But for some reason, vocal bands have an aversion to sunlight. Except VoicePlay. And they won’t take me. So, I’ve spent a staggering amount of time in the godforsaken tundra.
My first group: Blue Jupiter – then based in Minnesota
Second group: Ball in the House – based in Boston
And now: Home Free – based back in Minnesota!
I subbed in with the Alley Cats for a while. They’re based in Orange County, California. Know where they sent me half the time? Wisconsin!
Yes, I’m an a cappella slut.
Do you have any idea how many groups have come out of the Midwest? The Blenders, Tonic Sol-Fa, Chapter 6, Blind Man’s Bluff, Fourshadow, InPulse, Marcoux Corner…
Some of these groups don’t exist anymore. Presumably due to hypothermia. I guess folks south of the Mason-Dixon line have better things to do than sing without instruments. Because they can do other things. Like go outside.
I’m particularly tired of hearing Minnesotans talk about how nice their summers are as if it somehow justifies their state being uninhabitable for the other eleven months of the year. Hey, Minnesotans, know where else summers are nice? EVERYWHERE.
I am a sucker for Fall. Unfortunately, Fall is really just the beginning of Winter. But it’s pretty. Fall = Mother’s Nature’s consolation prize. Everything is dying, but at least it looks nice on its way out.
And I must admit that I’m enchanted by snow. For about three minutes. After that, it’s just a nuisance. And in the city, utterly disgusting.
Even the Spring is hard to enjoy up North. Because it’s as if the North is having trouble letting go of Winter. There’s a period of time when the dirt/snow mixture starts to melt and becomes a grey sludge. And then what happens? It snows again! And it will likely repeat this cruel process several times before Summer.
If it weren’t for Christmas music and football, I would not be suitable for public consumption. So, this Winter, if you see me away from a sports bar and I’m not singing, chances are I’m not full of cheer.
And that’s what frosts my brisket.