You have not seen crazy in Dallas until the weather forecaster predicts an ice storm. Not since Noah has there been such preparation for a weather event.
First stop is the liquor store. If you think the last call sale at Neiman’s brings out the ugly, you ain’t seen nothing. Cruising into the parking lot is second only to a demolition derby. A little old blue haired woman will steal your waiting parking spot and maneuver a mid finger salute faster than Sherman marching through Atlanta. If you survive to make it to the store entrance do not…..I repeat do not even think about heading over to the Southern Comfort aisle. These wee women who think nothing about stealing parking spots and hurling digital obscenities hoard the stuff by the gallons.
I settle for something called Persimmon Brandy, distilled in Mississippi.
Next stop is the supermarket. By now, the shelves are practically bare except for milk, eggs and healthy stuff. There is nary a Cheeto in sight. Ben and Jerry left the building two shopping carts ago. Even the healthy chips are gone or smooshed to sawdust. Heath bars are history. Not to worry, with a freezer and pantry full of basics I will create new culinary delights.
- A new casserole that we find unremarkable to our taste buds makes up for it in volume.
- The book touted as compelling puts me to sleep
- I take comfort from the Persimmon Brandy that taste like Vicks formula 44 cough syrup.
- My fleece lined sweats and fuzzy socks are cozy.
- Amazon Prime did not deliver the cat’s food.
- The squirrels refuse to eat the leftover casserole.
- My fleece lined sweats and fuzzy socks are itchy.
- I poured the persimmon brandy over pasta and passed it off as health food.
- The cat is plotting my demise.
You’d think if we were on the cusp of an apocalypse it would be on the evening news. I am puzzled as to why a segment of our population has alluded to the necessity to prepare for a revolution/survival/martial law or some other threat.
I had no idea humanity was in imminent danger from anything other than genetically modified organisms. When somebody starts fooling around with my food, it gets my attention. Given enough warning, I would stash chocolate and vodka and survive just fine. (If I’m going to have to ward off killer tomatoes, vodka is a necessity.)
These doomsday Sayers are getting spooky. Two of the most outspoken proponents of “the right to bear arms” are women. Konnie Burton and Amy Hedtke I will refrain from identifying these women by name, except they are both heavily involved in Tarrant county politics and one is an incoming member of the state legislature. Both promote “constitutional carry” of guns. This means anyone breathing can pack heat.
Tarrant County (Ft Worth to people who don’t live in the hood) is cowboy and cattle territory, so it is not terribly surprising both of these women share shoot’em up idealism.
A woman who wears boots that state “Stand for Life” and advocates unlicensed carrying of weapons has a serious credibility issue. Any woman who would wear red, white and blue boots probably has good reason to tote a gun.
I suppose if we have to fend off killer tomatoes a piece might come in handy.
If there is going to be an apocalypse/event/martial law I’ll take my chances that someone other than a mainstream reject wearing ugly shoes will announce it.
I’ve had the good fortune to be married to my valentine for many years, so Valentine ‘s Day is a non-event.
But, that very first valentine is hard to forget. When you are in first grade, the discovery that someone other than those who are required to do so, find you special is thrilling.
Stylish Wellington boots were not part of my rainy day attire. I had to wear hideous rubber galoshes with awful buckles on them. I could never manage the buckles and to make things worse they smelled like burnt rubber. I prayed for someone to steal them.
Jessie Ray adopted me I suppose because he was accustomed to taking care of kids. The eldest of a horde of kids, he was raggedy poor and tattered but always had a big smile. Jessie was my galoshes hero. I never asked him, but he helped me unbuckle in the morning and re-buckle when it was time to go home.
First grade was my first Valentine celebration. I brought valentines for everyone and put them in a fancy pink box where they would be “delivered” by the teacher during our party. I could hardly wait to see if I got any cards.
If I received other cards, I don’t remember them, but the card I remember the most was from Jessie. It had candy hearts dancing across the front; delivered in person by Jessie, probably the only card he could afford to bring.
The summer after first grade, Jessie drowned in a swimming accident.
Jessie will always be my first valentine.
If there’s such a place as heaven, I hope Jessie went to the part where it never rains, there are no smelly galoshes and he gets lots of cards on Valentine day.