Four Things To Do When You're Snowed In That Don't Involve Eye-Guzzling Netflix

It's been snowing non-stop for 19 hours. Nineteen. One-nine. Out my window, it looks like the set of a Hallmark Christmas movie, except for Candace Cameron is nowhere in sight. I won't be going anywhere beyond the end of my sidewalk, which you can't even tell I shoveled last evening, until Monday at the earliest--and probably not even then. So what to do with all this spare time?

The simple, thoughtless answer is Netflix. There are thousands of hours of movies and TV shows I could catch up on. But what a waste of time. After all, we get a finite number of hours in our lives and, though there's nothing wrong with taking some time to just relax and enjoy some mindless fun, there are so many things we could choose to do that fill up the hours more meaningfully and productively than that. Here are just a few:

• Put a dent in that pile of books. If you're like me, you buy books way faster than you can read them. Just in the immediate vicinity of my desk, I count 14 books I've bought with the intention of reading. And that's not counting the ones on the Kindle app on my phone. I don't even want to know how many of those there are. If you read blogs like mine, I bet you're in a similar situation. So put down the remote and see how many books you can read instead of seeing how many entire seasons you can watch.

• Review those books. Especially if you read books like mine by local or independent authors, it's so important that you take the time to review those books you read. Review them on Amazon. Review them on Goodreads. Talk them up on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and the thousand other social media outlets you use that I've probably never heard of. Good, thoughtful, real reviews are the life blood of sales for tiny little authors like me.

• Catch up on correspondence. Sitting down and actually writing letters may seem quaint, but I know I still enjoy getting real mail from actual human beings instead of the steady stream of recycle I usually receive. But if you can't even find paper and pen in your house, then consider the next best thing--email. It's hard to believe that this form of communication is seen by many as just as outmoded as snail mail. But there's just something about someone taking the time to sit down and write a letter telling a loved one about what's going on in your life. It says you're important to me. I want to let you in on some truly intimate issues in my life. I wish you were here to share in them.

• Think about someone else. Check in on your neighbors. If your back can handle it, shovel their walk, especially if they're older or have trouble getting about. Make them some soup or cookies or whatever you're good at. Call all your friends and family and make sure they're okay. Let them know you're thinking about them. It matters.

As I wrote this, I thought of a bunch more things, so I'll just list them: exercise, clean your house, organize that closet you've been putting off, build a snowman, go sledding, play board games with whoever you're stranded with, write a poem or a short story or a letter to the editor, and try one or two of the thousand recipes you've pinned but never actually used. 


And when you've finished all those things,  then fine, you can watch season 4 of Longmire on Netflix.

Six Rules For Attending a Public Performance

I went to see a play at the Actors Guild of Parkersburg last night. I won't talk about the play itself because as soon as I finish posting this blog I'm going to be writing a review of it for ClutchMOV. I'll let you know as soon as it's published so you can read it there. But the event motivated me to write about something else. I hesitate to do this because I hate to come off as an old crank, but I just think something needs to be said about the crumbling decay of civil behavior in our culture.
 
I don't mean the lack of civility in public discourse. Enough has been written about whether people are too easily offended by others' words and whether Donald Trump is a breath of fresh air or just one more loud-mouthed kook. No, I'm talking about the simple civility of knowing how to behave in public, more specifically at public events such as plays and concerts.
 
As the play started last night, I actually had a hard time hearing the actor onstage over the conversations that continued for a good minute or two after the curtain went up. It was also quite evident that no special lighting was really needed since the entire audience was lit up by the cell phones that people had just been told to silence and put away. Speaking of which I counted three separate phones going off during the show.
 
Let me say at this point that this particular play sort of lent itself to audience participation in that it was quite raucous and zany, with the actors often breaking the fourth wall and talking directly to us, but the sad fact is it wouldn't have mattered if that had been true or not--the audience would still have behaved  boorishly. I know this from years of attending plays and concerts in the area. Just go to the PHS Acappella Chistmas concert if you don't believe me. And I don't mean the student performance. No, I mean the evening concert, where the audience, at least ostensibly, knows how to behave. People like me, who look forward to the emotionally transporting nature of this event, walk away frustrated and angry every single time  because of the crying babies, lit and often ringing cell phones, people wandering in and out doors and up and down aisles in the middle of songs, talking, laughing, constant coughing--I could go on.
 
I fear I may be preaching to the choir here, if you'll pardon the cliché, but I just feel like it needs to be said. There are, or at least there used to be and still should be, rules for civilized behavior at a performance:
 

• If you're at a concert or play and it's the middle of a song or scene, you just DON'T GET UP AND WALK AROUND, barring a medical emergency. Getting up and moving around disturbs the experience of everyone around you.

 

If you feel the need to take a walk,
consider a setting such as this
rather than in a theater mid-song.

• Keep your CELL PHONE SILENT AND IN YOUR POCKET. That includes you parents who feel it's necessary to video record every living second of your child's life. Here's a novel idea: actually experience those moments live rather than busying yourself recording them and blinding all the people around you with the dazzling light of your television-sized phone screen.

My view at about a bazillion
concerts over the years.

• Again barring emergency, JUST DON'T TALK. Your running commentary may be just flippin' hilarious to your seatmate, but it makes the people around you wish they knew how to actually perform the Vulcan neck pinch.

An actual person at the play I
attended last night.

•  NO BABIES. I love babies, I really do. Just ask anyone. But there is simply no excuse for bringing an infant to a concert or play. Get a sitter or just don't go.

Unlike a concert or play, this is a
wonderful place to take a child.



• NO DISEASE SPREADERS. Again, I'm sympathetic to the fact that your child or friend or husband or whoever may be in that choir, band, or play up there, but what are you doing disturbing everyone and spreading germs? If you know there's a good chance you'll start coughing, don't go to the concert or at least sit right next to a door so you can minimize the damage. And if there's even the slightest chance you could be contagious, DO NOT GO!





If you're sick, stay home and do this
rather than go to a play and share your
germs with everyone else.

• Finally, and this one will cause all the previous five bullets to be pretty much unnecessary: THE RULES APPLY TO YOU. You aren't above them. You aren't special. It's not about you. I'm not sure how many other ways I can think of to say it, but I'm pretty sure those cover it.