Who's your founding father?

Erica is in the market for a new car. I suggested a Honda.

Even though that sale was in 2013, I don't reckon she'll have any trouble finding someone willing to help her four-score a deal.

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Happy Monday ~ Happy Presidents Day ~ Happy Week

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There's the ice and then there's us

Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised to see actual cats and actual dogs come hurtling out of the sky over the last three days.

Everything else has come down.

We had rain. We had sleet. We had ice. We had snow. Then more rain. Then extra sleet. Then additional ice. Then another layer of snow.

Then, just for good measure, overnight last night, a final proper icing.

Now where is my cake?

The local weatherpeople claim that we "dodged a bullet" here in the Midlands.

That's because the entire event was not ice, the kind that relentlessly (if beautifully) coats everything, making branches heavy and bringing down power lines.

What we got instead in the second wave of our storm -- the Wednesday version, as opposed to the first wave, the Tuesday version -- was snow and sleet.

The sleet is fascinating in its loudness when it falls but it is drier and therefore ends up on the ground without clinging to everything between it and the ground.

And that was good for us, because it kept the power outages to a minimum throughout central South Carolina.

But last night the storm decided to contort itself yet again. And this time it was truly ice, nothing but ice.

We woke up to find every branch and every bud, every leaf and every needle, encased in slick transparent brittle dazzling chilliness.

The wind kicked up. The branches on the tall pines, already drooping, commenced their sighing, clacking, shifting, creaking, breaking.

Then, a few hours ago, there was a peek of sun. For approximately twenty-seven seconds.

Ice gobbets plummeting from the trees sounded like heavy rain.

The next time I looked outside, it was snowing again.

I want my blankie. I have my blankie. And a fire, and my doggie, and hot tea, and many clothing layers, and cozy sockies, and the remote control.

Oh and my valentine. I have him too.

Stay warm and safe and let us all think on spring.

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Happy Thursday ~ Happy Valentine Weekend

I Wish You Love

ooxooxoo

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Leopards and pecans

Today if you were out and about in the Midlands of South Carolina where I live, you would likely be wished an ice day.

Yes. An ice day. You would have heard correctly.

Because that's what we're having. Snow too. And sleet. Plus freezing rain.

I do believe several weasels and ferrets have fallen from the sky as well.

According to the weatherman, the worst is yet to come. Tomorrow.

Today however, my wee pool angel once more has frigid flakes on his little head and tiny wings. He endures.

So since I'm stuck indoors, I wanted to tell you something amusing.

I've blogged before about how I tend to hear what was not exactly said.

As in, my ears are like two Chinese telephones.

Last Sunday my unfortunate auditory infirmity manifested itself yet again.

I was in church. TG was on one side of me and Erica on the other.

It was invitation time and we were singing Jesus Paid It All. One of my favorite hymns.

So when it was time to sing the verse that goes:

Lord, now indeed I find

Thy pow'r and Thine alone

Can change the leper's spots

And melt the heart of stone

On that third line, I sang (as I always do, just to mix things up):

Can change the leopard's spots

I meant no disrespect.

It's true: God can change the leopard's spots if He wants to. To stripes or stars or triangles or anything else He wishes.

Even make the leopard leprous, then change him back again.

So step off.

Then because I'd been a tiny bit irreverent and I guess I thought that was cute, I leaned over and whispered to Erica:

I just sang can change the leopard's spots.

She giggled dutifully and before I could look away she caught my eye and whisper-mouthed:

The pecans.

Now what you need to know right here is that in the South we pronounce "pecans" thusly:

PUH-KHANZ

In other words, correctly. Rhymes with the wands. Does not rhyme with pea hands.

So I smiled real big at Erica and then went back to being appropriately reverent and prayerful because after all it was invitation time.

But no sooner had I done so than I had this exact thought:

Huh?

I shot another look at Erica and whisper-mouthed:

The pecans?

She's used to this kind of thing. Me being in a state of bewilderment, that is.

So she repeated, still in a whisper but this time with helpful exaggerated enunciation:

Leprechauns.

Oh. Immediately it all made sense.

My daughter had referenced that time several years ago when, on the way home from church, I asked TG why in his very fine sermon, the preacher had mentioned the children of leprechauns.

I mean, I'm Irish and all that but I really thought leprechauns were mythical and as such did not technically reproduce.

And yet I heard him say it. On a stack of Bibles I did.

TG was patient, as he almost always is when I say ridiculous things. He has had ample practice:

He said children of leper colonies, sweetheart.

Oh.

So apparently I am nuts.

Pecans, that is.

And that is all for now.

Meanwhile, snow and ice continues to accumulate on the palmetto fronds.

Time to batten down the hatches.

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Happy Tuesday

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SkyWatch Friday: Listen, starlight

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B l e u   B l a n c   R o u g e

Heritage Park

McDonough, Georgia

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'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, glisten,
Seeming with bright eyes to listen --
For what listen they?
For a song and for a charm,
See they glisten in alarm,
And the moon is waxing warm
To hear what I shall say.
Moon! keep wide thy golden ears --
Hearken, stars! and hearken, spheres! --
Hearken, thou eternal sky!
I sing an infant's lullaby,
A pretty lullaby.
Listen, listen, listen, listen, 
Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,
And hear my lullaby!
Though the rushes that will make
Its cradle still are in the lake -- 
Though the linen that will be
Its swathe, is on the cotton tree --
Though the woollen that will keep
It warm, is on the silly sheep --
Listen, starlight, listen, listen,
Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,
And hear my lullaby!
Child, I see thee! Child, I've found thee
Midst of the quiet all around thee!
And thy mother sweet is nigh thee!
But a Poet evermore!
See, see, the lyre, the lyre,
In a flame of fire,
Upon the little cradle's top
Flaring, flaring, flaring,
Past the eyesight's bearing,
Awake it from its sleep,
And see if it can keep
Its eyes upon the blaze --
Amaze, amaze!
It stares, it stares, it stares,
It dares what no one dares!
It lifts its little hand into the flame
Unharm'd, and on the strings
Paddles a little tune, and sings,
With dumb endeavour sweetly --
Bard art thou completely!
Little child
O' th' western wild,
Bard art thou completely!
Sweetly with dumb endeavour,
A Poet now or never,
Little child
O' th' western wild,
A Poet now or never!

~John Keats~

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Happy Friday ~ Happy Weekend

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Misunderstood

If you watched the Super Bowl on Sunday, like most people you probably paid more attention to the commercials.

They were, after all, a hundred yards better than the game.

One of the most hysterical ones was the Audi "Doberhuahua" ad.

Poor Javier couldn't even look.

And besides the top-heavy creature itself, the best part of that commercial was Sarah McLachlan.

But did you see her pre-Super Bowl message?

Misunderstood.

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Happy Tuesday

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