hawkeyowa: (stfu i'm beautiful)
[It's not hard to tell that things have gotten tense in the Midwest, starting with protests in Wisconsin, and now coming to protests in Iowa. In lieu of it, Jack has decided to take as much of the edge off as he can, in the form of bundling himself up and toting a sled up the highest hill in town, Mitch loyally at his side and far too excited for his own good.

Yes, the hill is a bit daunting, and he'll probably end up with his fair share of bruises and humiliation by nightfall, but it should be worth it in the end. One he gets to the top, he poses momentarily like a king about to take on an opposing kingdom. He is Macduff, ready to teach Macbeth a lesson. He is William Wallace sans face paint and kilt, replaced with a beanie and jeans. He is Napoleon, Alexander, and Caesar all in one tall, skinny, farm boy form. He has his mighty companion barking and rolling in the snow at his side. This hill is his battlefield, his Tannenburg and Hastings and Antietam all in one.

As he finally sits on his sled and pushes, he flies down the hill with a mighty screech of questionable masculinity battle cry, his dog running after him and barking happily.
]
hawkeyowa: (this is so awkward)
[Back home, Iowa, like most states in the 2,500 mile snowstorm line, have been completely thrashed by waves upon waves of blinding snow. Sure, this winter has been harsh, and the Plains states tend to get plenty of snow, but this is particularly bad. Iowa already had to report that every major highway had ice and snow on it. Snowfall records are almost record-beating.

Of course, this leaves Jack freezing, burrowed in his house, and specifically burrowed under a pile of fleece blankets with his space heater cranked up. Mitch is curled on his couch next to him, and for all anyone knows, Maddie is also burrowed in the blankets, but it's much more difficult to spot her.

Though, one look around his house and it's pretty clear he was preparing for this. There's soup packets and boxes of any number of cracker-related things everywhere, along with another mass of blankets and pillows, and an endless supply of movies he dug up. Unfortunately, all he has to drink is Spring Grove and Olde Main, in which he's chosen the latter to drink. While the weather around town might not be as godawful as the weather back home, Jack is sure acting like it.
]

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Jack Ellis

February 2011

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