Snow, milk, bread and eggs

Our resident weatherman is leaving... yep. Dan, Dan the Weatherman is departing for more exciting opportunities elsewhere. For the record, he's the one weatherman who panics people into a frantic drive to the store in perilous conditions for bread, milk and eggs. You know. Winter survival food in the Deep South.

Apparently, covering tornadoes that rip the state to shreds isn't exciting enough to keep him here. He's off to places that appreciate his winter weather forecasts that boost the stocks of companies that sell the milk, bread and eggs. He is off to predict weather in other locales that will appreciate his panic driven warnings of wintry doom.

Yesterday, his forecast called for snow up to 2 inches in many places... and, to be fair, we DO have flakes drifting past the window.

Two inches of snow. That's enough to cripple the area since most drivers here have no idea how to drive in the snow and are a danger to themselves and others. Of course, that can be said for drivers everywhere in snow. People who live in areas blessed with greater snowfall amounts each year tend to get cocky and overestimate their ability to "handle it" on the road and drive like maniacs. This would explain the wrecked cars that are perched precariously on mountainside passes that you can see during the spring thaw. Some eager beaver who KNEW how to handle the blizzard just kept pushing on despite the fact that the semi trucks had all pulled over to the side to wait out the storm.

Stupidity in snow isn't regional. It's a global phenomenon.

But back to the forecast. We have snow. SNOW! Yippee! Visions of hot cocoa and floating marshmallows fill my mind.

The top of the car has a few flakes dusting the surface... time to pull out the sled and hitch up the Huskies for the trip to the gym today. I must remind myself to stop at the store on the way back. I'm low on eggs and this farcical amount of snowfall makes me want French toast with warm maple syrup.

ON YOU HUSKIES!! MUSH!! MUSH!!!

Wait... hold that request... the snow is now mixed with a sleety rainy mix. That doesn't bode well for the forecast of fun. Instead, we get rain. Cold, wet, winter rain. In buckets. Filling the ditches. Making low-lying areas a danger.

So, SWIM YOU HUSKIES!! SWIM!!!!


Good thing they have a well developed backstroke. Nothing worse than being a sled pulled by a dog that flounders around in the water wallowing through the choppy waves created by the panic driven paws doggie paddling along.

Sadly, at 35 degrees, the snowy show will not last long and the ground is far too warm to start planning where to build Frosty the Snowman in our front yard.

Oh well. November is too early for whatever snow and ice we would normally get anyway. Time to sit back, relax and dream of an all SEC National Championship with the Tide clutching the crystal football when it's all over...

It Comes in Three's

First, we drop some serious coin getting tires, brakes and rotors for the car. Not cheap even with the resident skilled handyman performing the work.

Then second, the washer died. Dead. Can it be repaired? Sure, but at a cost greater than buying a NEW one with the sales for Black Friday going on... naturally, the company no longer makes the model that will match the dryer which still works. Expensive decisions were made... we bought an entirely new set.

Now, our precious college student son Thomas just informed us via text message that his laptop computer has died. Number Three. The dreaded third shoe dropping. Yippee. In the way that I mean NOT... I don't believe the Dallas Cowboy's cheerleaders could be coaxed into a dance line for this announcement.

And by the way, if anyone knows where the money tree is located, I'd appreciate knowing where it is so I can gather a few leaves to pay for all of this. I promise to not be greedy and take them all.

I have begun to think the defining script on my tombstone should simply be a rolling tote board indicating the level of debt that has accumulated directly and indirectly in my life. It might be interesting to watch since there will be times that it will reflect the reality that is a financial blur... see those numbers just whooshing by?

I'm thankful that we have been able to arrange financing to take care of things thus far, but I must confess there are times that I wonder what it must be like for those who are truly monetarily rich to just simply say "sure, here's the money for ____, go right ahead and buy it" without once considering what sacrifices would be needed to pay for whatever "it" is.

Thomas needs this type of technology for school... it's virtually impossible to get along without it otherwise.

I guess until we sort this out he can use the computer lab and hope for the best.

♫ Santa baby, slip a Brinks truck under the tree for meeeeeeeee ♪♫
♪♫ I've been an awful good girl, Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight...♫♪♫

Bobbing Along

I truly didn't want to get out of the pool yesterday.

My exercises and PT were long completed, but I wanted to stay in that warm water cocoon of relative peace and quiet. I realize being "pruny" from the water isn't a fashion statement, but I don't believe anyone who knows me will be all that concerned about my lack of care regarding that particular issue.

I just needed some quiet in my overly loud life.



Took Daddy to see a physionometrist yesterday. Fancy word for a doctor who specializes in telling people to go get physical therapy. I'm not sure this exercise will truly help. Lord knows if it does, I'll be happy that it improves Daddy's quality of life.

But I saw the MRI and I understand enough about anatomy and physiology to be a danger to myself and others.

The compression in his spine and the narrowing of the channels for the nerve conduction are so restricted that I'm afraid the repetitive motions will simply cause greater harm.

There are also at least TWO bone spurs which are pressing in upon the already stressed areas of the back. I for sure saw one that is pretty significant in size. But as of this instant, Daddy is NOT a surgical candidate.

Meekly, I took the prescription for the month of PT for Daddy. The folks at the rehab will HAVE to yield to my schedule on this one. With my own needs of rehabbing a still recuperating ankle, I can't supersede the PT I have to do just to get Daddy to his. And I can't keep adding things to an already overfull schedule. It's not like I have a "mini me" closet to draw from to build enough support to fill in the gaps. Sadly, I don't even have a single mini me. That would be both helpful and disconcerting at the same time.



So I spent some time after PT with my head down in the water playing dead. Not that I want to be dead, of course, but some days, it's nice to have a break from the noise outside of my head just long enough to concentrate on the noise INSIDE my head.

Think two BB's rattling around inside a box car...

I relaxed enough to just float drifting along with the current from the water jets.

Sadly, the time came which compelled me to get out of the pool. I hopped into the hot tub long enough to ease the tightness in my leg and ankle then dried off to go home.

It is a pretty good break from life. Sadly, you always have to come back and shoulder your load again, but some days, I think the trip to the pool helps me deal with things a little better.

At least that is the goal.

The Peppered Eye

Pepper is a wonderful thing!

It creates a little spark of fire in the throat and a tingle on the tongue when properly applied. It can mean all the difference between a salad that is just okay, and a salad that is amazing. Pepper is great with eggs and bacon, adds a touch of class to a humble homemade hash and turns a bowl of stew into something worth eating.

But one thing pepper does NOT enhance. . . my eyeball.

I feel like half of my skull is on fire and the flames are licking out of my right eye socket.
HOLY FLAMING CAT SNOT AND FIERY DEATH!!! OOOOOOOOOHHHHH!! This is a pain that should be inflicted on some of the bad people of our world!!

Based on the suffering I am having to endure at my own hand, I'm not sure my love affair with pepper will last much longer if this inferno doesn't get extinguished soon.

Is it possible to go blind by accidental peppering of the eyeball? Can you die from it? Right now, both questions are up for grabs. Can someone PLEASE hose off my eye? I can't possibly be the only one who sees these vivid flames curling up from under my eyelids!!

The sad tale of woe that brought us to this point isn't monumental, unless we are measuring stupidity. Confessing that while I am not more than a modest home cooking kind of gal, I do humbly state that I enjoy cooking most of the time. I like making things that my family will actually want to eat. To that end, I have a little Ziploc bag with some fresh, coarsely ground pepper in it. My supply is dwindling by the day. But ham and navy bean soup needs a bit of pepper to help it cook along, right? A little of the supply must be sacrificed for the soup to have the taste that it needs.

Plunging my clean hand into the bag, I gathered up a couple of pinches of pepper... enough to season not to scorch. After extending the sprinkling of the vital grains over the beans in the Crock pot, I washed my hands. You can't be too careful.

Careful. HA!

I laugh at myself through my tears.

Apparently, one tiny, minuscule hardly even worth mentioning let alone seeing grain of pepper was chameleon-like in its skill and ability to camouflage itself against my finger into flesh tones with a cunning that the military would love to possess. The tenacity with which it clung to my skin even through the washing and drying process would give Velcro a run for its money.

Innocent in my understanding of the tragedy about to befall me, I went to go about my daily morning activities. While sitting at my desk, I casually rubbed my eye.

With fire.

Does the fact that it was completely unintentional matter?

At this point, I am certain that my right eye will never be on speaking terms with me again.

Murine Plus drops, generic store brand drops, water right out of the sink... all have been applied in a liberal deluge to my deeply offended eye and its mucous membranes. They are reporting with great accuracy that the savage attack has left them both irritated beyond all measure for polite society, but that they are now planning some kind of retribution that will involve me having blurred vision for quite some time today.

It is open war.

My protestations that the offending particle of pepper have now been most assuredly washed from the battlefield of topical violence does nothing to sway the eyeball. It has its mind made up. I will now be compelled to walk through this morning with a blurry reminder that the peppered eye is not what's for dinner.

The sting is down to a dull roar now. I have this odd slimy feeling on my eyeball that tells me the mucous membranes surrounding my eye have indeed gone into full battle mode and applied riot gear as they slime coat all the surfaces of the eye to continue forcing the contaminant and the effects of same to retreat from the battle.

It seems to be working.

Perhaps in due time, my eye will forgive me.

But I have the sinking feeling that the next time I reach for my little bag of pepper, my right eye will involuntarily slam shut and refuse to assist in the cooking until the all clear has been sounded by the left eye.

Who knew plain old table top cooking pepper was such a deadly weapon?

Perhaps the stores need to sell it by permit only.

Hmm. Yet another governmental intervention for the perpetually stupid.

*SIGH*

Someone really needs to save me from myself.