Dern Those Dams

“Yesterday, a crew from TV 9&10 came to the house to film the gutter dudes steaming ice dams off our roof.”

 

I will spend the rest of this blog explaining this single sentence because unless you live in a snowy clime, this is pure gibberish.

Let’s start at the top. TV 9&10. Not 9. Not 10. 9&10 – no spaces. “Ice Dams Left Steaming! Watch TV 9&10 @ 11.”

I’m used to stations picking just one number and sticking with it. But, oh no….

“Hey Dave! Let’s start a TV station! My favorite number is 9.”

“Well, then there, Dan – I feel real strong about 10, myself.”

 Not that it matters that much anymore since cable sticks channels willy-nilly. I think 9&10 is on 6. Go figure.

Here in Michigan, the network affiliates cover the entire state – which is actually, of course, two whole units connected by a rope bridge or something. You gotcher Upper and yer Lower. We live in the Upper Lower Peninsula. Get it? Yeah, me either. We also say we live in The Pinky. No use words much. Just point with hands.  See the pretty mitten?

So, some places in Michigan, its channel 9; other places it’s channel 10. There’s also TV 7&4 and the Fifth/Third Bank.  All this really means is that the weather is never accurate and I know more than I need to know about Sault St. Marie.  I have no idea what happened to the First, Second or Fourth banks.

Okay, next – Ice Dams. Never heard of ‘em.  In the South, when big long icicles stretch their crystal fingers from the roof, we celebrate and dance around them. We point. We ooh. We ahh. We break them off and throw them at our little sisters like lances. We suck on their dirty-tasting ends. All in all, we think they are gorgeous little gifts of Nature.

Turns out, as with most beautiful things, those icicles harbor a dangerous secret.

While we are doing our Pagan Ice Dance, their dirty little backsides are burrowing under our shingles, bent on destroying the very fiber of our soffits and fascias and other roof-y terms I’m throwing around as if I know what I’m talking about. And when they melt, my friend, they will leak. And when they leak, yea verily, we will not know why. Towels will be bunched up and pails will be put upunder. (I wanted to say “asunder” because I’m going all King James but it doesn’t work that so I made one up. Just roll with it.)

Bottom line? They must go. They must be steamed into oblivion. Gutter Dudes to the rescue! Why steam? Um… it vaporizes them before those sexy ‘cicles can cast their icy spell? No idea. Zero. But it looked all high techy and cool.

Channel 9&10 wanted to commend us on the wise solution on our Fudgitudinal Ignorance. I’m surprised they didn’t put a banner at the bottom of the screen, “Fudgies Contribute to Local Economy During First Winter Up North”

Still, the house looked good, I thought. And it is television, after all. I guess it’s kind of like calling your mom from Hollywood all giddy about getting that Preparation H commercial. Sometimes you just have to show your ass a little.