White Lightning Axiom: Redux: phweww

Monday, June 06, 2005



It was an interesting evening. I had very little time to get much done since I was in a race against time. The thunder heads were rolling in and there was work that HAD to get done before my efforts were doused in rain. Dogs had to get some 'personal' time in the back-50, garbage needed to go to the curb along with recyclables and the kids had to be rescued from the detainment center. This last task IS the last task and was in the greatest danger of becoming a onerously troublesome endeavor. If I can get them into the Super Saturn and back to the manor before the skies open up on us, it will be a raging success. And, to my credit, we managed to do just that in spite of the angry grey clouds hanging about 1 meter above my head. A few drops, but not enough to melt me.

The evening was ... hot. Oppressively hot. I was making angel hair pasta to go along with a creation I call mushroom medley. It involved portabello, crimini , Shiitake , Enoki and standard white mushrooms along with some onion for a base and some garlic for a bit of a zing. Having a boiling pot cooking off 5 quarts of water next to a pan that I am sauteing the ingredients in is no way to cool off from a 90+ day. The house had done it's usual 'heat hoarder' act and it was necessary to open every window and door ... till it started to pour. Nope, seal up the manor and lock down every portal where fresh (cool) air might find purchase. By the end of the evening, I wasn't sure what was cooked more, the fungus or my head.

We found out, later in the night, that Jake is not entirely enthralled with thunder and lightning. For the most part, he spent the entire evenings nestled up to the Mrs with a notably concerned facade plastered on his face. Now, if this is genuine concern, I'd think that we would be seeing more of him later in the night. Since we did not, I'm assuming that he found a new machination to foist on the Mrs to extort more than his fair share of Mommy-Time. Crafty little bugger, not so much for his capabilities but for the way he engages us with them and yet maintains an air of innocence.

The night was miserable. Trying to sleep was an insurmountable hurdle. Both the Mrs and I spent most of the night in a slow-cooker - too tired to get up but not tired enough to fall asleep. The prickly heat made our skins tacky and clammy ... sticking to anything it touched. Bedsheets were like a wet velvet prison to us. Thankfully, the morning hour finally arrived and we could abandon our futile efforts. I'm thinking that turning on the air-conditioning my be coming sooner than we thought. That, or I'm going to have to leave the windows open at night and let all the pollen and fungus spore drift in on the humid night air. The Mrs will need to dig into her endless bag of medicinal elixirs to find something to thwart the histamines that make her spring evenings so miserable.

Since we were up so early, we got out of the house well before 0700. I found, to my delight, that the 'Service Engine Soon' light that had appeared on my dash Sunday Morning was now gone again. Probably a humidity triggered sensor ... the Super Saturn only has to last 4 more years. Come on baby, you can do it! Only 120K more miles! The traffic was unfortunately thick on the local roads. The storms had created a lot of downed wires and shorted traffic lights. No flooding, just a lot of secondary damage. This, of course, complicates the flow of traffic more than it should. I found myself pondering about why I am so uncharitable when it comes to my driving habits. I will typically close ranks when someone passes me on the right and appears to be looking for a way to get back into the passing lane. I believe it is my experience that invariably, they loose all urgency once they have achieved the goal of getting in front. They slow down, create a gap where some slow moving truck or service vehicle slides in and waylays me, frustrating me from executing the means by which I realize my own goal of getting to my destination. Selfish ... perhaps. Prudent ... most likely.


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