Malaise

The holidays are over. The thermometer roller coaster dips more than it rises. Clouds shatter the brittle sun. Streets are coated with a gray, gloppy sludge. New Year's resolutions are waning quickly. Cabin fever rears its ugly head. It's January. The month that calls for resilience and fortitude in the upper plains.

If traveling to exotic and warm beachy places is not on your radar, here are a few lethargy busters that are budget and mood friendly.

1) Make soup. If you have the luxury of time, make a pot of from-scratch chicken noodle soup. Nothing  soothes the jangled nerves of winter better than a bubbling, chickeny broth filled with sliced carrots, onion, celery, chicken and the pasta of the north, noodles. It is not fast food but it is just what the doctor ordered. If time is short, hearty chili will suffice. There are shortcuts for this soup that make it a possibility after a day of trudging through crunchy parking lots and scraping off snow swaddled cars. The best part of chili is that it tastes even better after a few days in the fridge. Add a piece of cornbread and the woes of winter melt away.

2) Perform a kind deed. Cold weather can breed apathy and detachment. The antidote is doing something for others. It doesn't have to be anything heroic like planning a fundraiser for oppressed chickens. Keep it simple and choose something that capitalizes on your gifts. Play piano at a nursing home. Bake cookies for a neighbor stuck in the house with four kids. Shovel someone's driveway. Write a letter of encouragement on real stationery to a friend in need. Set up a bird feeding station for your feathery neighborhood pals. Teach a craft to someone else. The kindness list is as long as your imagination and it will most certainly bring a smile to your face.

3) Watch a movie. My favorite summery beach flick is Jaws. Da-duh, da-duh, da-duh....time to forget the plunging mercury outdoors and immerse yourself in someone else's problems for a couple of hours. Clears my head, for sure. If chawed body parts aren't your thing, go for a funny film. I enjoy the witty, sarcasm of movies like Best of Show and Napoleon Dynamite or the warm humor of the animated world found in Despicable Me and Finding Nemo. The classics are also primo at smashing the doldrums. Casablanca hits it out of the park with its pithy dialogue and larger than life characters. The Wizard of Oz draws me in every time with flying monkeys, sparkly red shoes and singing munchkins. Pop some popcorn (don't forget the butter!) and get lost in another world for a couple of hours, or more.

4) Read a book. Reading is the perfect indoor, under a blanket, with a cup of coffee, get lost for awhile activity. The lawn doesn't need mowing, the garden doesn't need tending, the flowers don't need watering so it is no-guilt time for a good book. Savor the pages and binge away.

Here is my Easy-Peasy-Not-A-Fan-Of-Measuring-Ingredients Chili recipe. I have never made it the same twice so the measurements are suggestive, rather than definitive.

Brown 1 pound of hamburger with 1 cup of chopped onions. Drain and add:
1 can chopped tomatoes (14.5 oz.)
1 can tomato sauce (15 oz.)
1 can chili beans (I like Mrs. Grimes...terrible name but good beans.)
2-4 cups water or broth of your choice. (I just use the empty cans for "measuring.")
Chili powder (1-3 teaspoons)
Ground cumin (1 teaspoon, or more)
Salt and pepper
Optional:
Adobo seasoning
Chipotle powder
Hot sauce
Green peppers

Simmer for the amount of time you have. Top with sour cream, shredded cheddar cheese and corn chips.

Hardy

The wind is slicing with knife-like precision on the prairie this weekend. We are enduring another ice and snow sludge mix. Driving is an adrenaline rush, not necessarily appreciated. No-nonsense tools are needed to scritch and scratch through the icy glaze on car windshields. Car doors are frozen shut, in need of some serious problem solving. Snowblowers toss plumes of fluffiness into the air. Snowplows muscle their way through streets and parking lots. Folks strike the turtle pose as they hunch their shoulders up and tuck heads downward in an attempt to minimize surface area exposure. Chunky, fur-lined boots displace fancy footwear and flannel is the preferred fabric.

But, as we say in the Midwest, "It could be worse." And it has been. Many of us old folks remember the winter of '68-'69. We had 43 inches of snow by the end of December and biting cold temperatures ensured that every flake stuck around. As a child on the farm, it was a winter wonderland. Prairie kids do not experience hills, but that year we did. Hills of snow. We took empty hog pans and tobogganed our way down piles of snow. We burrowed into snow mountains, creating warrens of protection. Piles of wet mittens steamed away near the stove. Boots struggled to dry out before the next go-around.

The best part, of course, was the school cancellations. We gathered around the kitchen radio in the morning, our eyes crusty from sleep but our ears sharply intent, waiting for the magic words, "No School." I am sure my mother was hoping for a different prognosis but she always kept her composure as another unstructured day stretched before us. We were only too happy to fill it with kid adventures and a little bickering along the way.

Travel was another snowland adventure. Vehicles did not have a lot of bells and whistles back then so we all took things slow and easy. Neighbors took the place of cell phones when you found yourself in a ditch or snowbank. Shovels and scrapers were standard equipment in the car. Our little country road became a one-way trail with eight-foot snow walls on either side. On one particular occasion, we met a cow sauntering down the trail. We had to back the car out of the road so Mr. Bovine could complete his wanderings. My husband (a town boy) recalls rendezvousing with his country aunt and uncle so they could get the groceries they needed. Well stocked pantries were necessary as we hunkered down for the next Arctic splatter.

Our cars, communication systems and roadways are much improved from the winter of '68, but some things never change. We do not get to pick our weather. Living in the upper Midwest is for the hardy, with a little foolishness sprinkled in. Good neighbors are priceless. Snowbanks make good sledding. And a warm pair of mittens makes the day go better.

Galvanized Hog Pan, a.k.a Farm Kid Toboggan