turtle is up.

Weather. Let's face it. It's been on all of our minds lately. While I laugh at Michele for her weather patterns in New York, I still know that living in California, I am gonna get the extremes. But, you have to get to them.Things that come at you from nowhere are pretty much called earthquakes here, so extreme weather changes don't really exist in one town. If you want heat, you go to the desert. If you want snow, you go to the hills. If you want dry, tired, glass on the street heat, you go to the valley. If you want fog, you go to San Francisco.

You get the point. No big surprises around here.You get what you go for. The Pacific Ocean loves us. What can we say? It's cause of my dog. The Pacific loves my dog.

Which brings me to what I think about in Tahoe all the time. No, I don't live there for any of you wondering, but I used to spend a lot of off days there relaxing in a big house with just my dog. Sometimes it was perfect weather. 70 or so odd degrees. Just enough to keep that cool scarf on and warm enough not to wear a shirt. That's turtle weather. See, I've never been afraid of any weather. Shit happens. I will admit I hate hail, but getting a cool pic in the hail is kinda funny. So the hail is an evil friend.

But, anyways. Tahoe. Snow.

Sometimes I would go to my hideaway and crash out to be alone for a few weeks to not be bothered by anyone. One of those things I do. Cook some fish on the outside BBQ and smoke some cigars. Perfect for when you just want to be forgotten about for a week or so before everything starts up again. Just my dog running around and me cooking the pasta while puffing away on some Cuban. Man, that sounds gay. Light it up again and walk out on the deck and just look around.

The snow had stopped falling and the ground was covered with about eight feet of snow. It was really kinda nice. The smell of the fire combined with the smell of fresh cooked fish on the BBQ. I had gotten away. This was the smell of victory. Pet my dog as I let her run out into the forest. Light a cigarette. Just smile.

She got about about 25 feet out into the snow pack and turned to look at me. Ok. What the fuck is this all about. She never does this. There was something wrong. A confused look on her face. A sad look in her eyes as I flicked my cigarette away and got ready for something. Anything. She doesn't pull this kind of shit. Never. Something was wrong. She knew it. I knew it.

Whooph!

She was gone! Sunk down deep in the snow!

Well, fuck.

Well, if we are gonna get thru this, we gotta stay calm.

You can't really describe the feeling as you see your dog crush the ice on top and fall into an eight foot snow pack. There are really no words that you have except for "Crap." The sounds of the dog. The sounds remind you of sometimes when you know when you are beat. It's like that feeling of being on the ground slowly moaning asking anyone for help. That was what I heard from her.

Well, crap. Time to go.

I ran out into the snow and only listened for her whimpering as I pushed my way through the ice. Breaking it all down as I went just listening to where she went. Crap. Maybe she was over here. Crap. Maybe there. I kept my one good ear open as I could hear her cries. I found a hole and buried down into it. Feeling fur. I hope this is her. Either that or some member of the Donner Party they never found. Her neck. I grabbed it. I pulled her out as I went in deeper in the snow. Stuck her over my shoulder and pushed back to the deck. My weight had pushed me down to almost the bottom of the powder. Her weight on me pushed us to the bottom. I couldn't get up on the ice and could get out. I just had to keep going. A few times I tried to pull myself up but it wasn't happening. Too much snow and a dog trying to get away on my shoulder. That wasn't happening. She was freaking out and I just kept walking to get thru this. I wasn't far. I can do this.

I looked at the dog and in a real calm voice told her "Hey dude, you need to calm down if we are gonna get thru this alive."

Great. I decided to go a new way back to the deck. More snow to break thru. Common sense, turtle be not thy name.

The air. I had made it. Holding on to the dog I wandered inside.

I threw her on the couch and dried her off.

She was confused.

I was soaked.

She wanted a chewie.

She got one.

I wanted a piece of BBQ Tuna.

I got one. - T

michele

Turtle said, let’s write about weather fears. I know why he said that. Because I was freaking out about the lightning. Thing is, Turtle isn’t really afraid of anything. I think the guy is absolutely fearless. So he will tell some great story that has something to do with weather and I’m gonna sit here and actually stay on topic and you will all think I’m neurotic or insane or both. That’s how things work around here. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose.

I have a lot fears. It’s just the way I am. But we don’t have to get into some of the more...interesting fears I have just now. We’re talking about weather. Lightning. Floods. Hurricanes. Things like that.

The weird part is, I’m a weather freak. The Weather Channel is the first on my programmed favorites on the remote. And I love extreme weather. I will sit for hours in front of my tv watching Jim Cantore stand brave against hurricane force winds or work his way through a blizzard. I just don’t like when it happens to me.

Well, mostly. I can handle some lighting. I get kind of freaked out when it’s cloud to ground lightning and it lights up the night like the freaking Fourth of July, but it’s also kinda cool. Thunder doesn’t really bother me unless it shakes the house and rattles the window. Then it’s more unnerving than anything else. Blizzards? Meh. Any excuse to not to have to leave the house for a few days and I’m down with it.

Let’s talk extreme weather. Really extreme. As in, I need to start paying attention to those “coastal evacuation route” signs on the roads around here. They try to prepare us for this. I mean, I’m on an island. A fierce hurricane, a tidal wave, a tsunami (yea, I know, what are the chances of a tsunami in NY, but this is the way my mind works), anything that’s going to make the ocean take leave of its bed and pour itself onto the island? That’s where I panic. Not a big fan of water as is. I certainly don’t want the Atlantic Ocean suddenly pouring into my house.

I’ve thought long and hard about this. About the evacuation routes and all. And just like my worst case scenario with a zombie attack, I’ve decided to just give up and let the ocean take me the way I would let my zombie neighbors chew on my neck.

Ok, work with me here. Suppose they (they being a catch all phrase for terrorists/aliens/mad scientists) dropped a bomb in the Atlantic Ocean, just for the sake of totally fucking with us. Tidal waves and earthquakes ensue. I live four miles from the ocean. I'm pretty much fucked in this scenario.

They (they in this case being the people in charge of telling us Don’t Panic!) will give some kind of warning. A general announcement, like you have one hour to get the hell out of the way. Ok then. You all pack your bags and load up your cars and get on the road. Those Coastal Evacuation signs I mentioned? You have to read between the lines. What they really say is: Hey, head this way if Long Island is suddenly being deluged by a tidal wave. But I have to tell you, traffic is hell. You may as well stay home and drown in the comfort of your own bed.. And that’s just what I’m going to do. You all go on with out me. Because I would rather die in my own home, clinging to my loved ones and maybe a bottle of Jack Daniels, than drown while sitting in traffic on the Grand Central Parkway, trying to get off the island like thousands of others. Hell, the LIE and the GCP are parking lots all day long anyhow. Imagine everyone trying to get the fuck out of Dodge at once? Good luck with that. You are going to die in your Lincoln Navigator, clutching a cold cup of 7-11 coffee and your last vision before the wave crashes will be the back of the SUV in front of you. Some bumper sticker that says “My kid is so much fucking better than your loser kid.” My last sight before the Atlantic Ocean crashes through my windows will be the look on Turtle’s face as I tell him to hurry up and let’s finish this because I always wanted to die in the middle of an orgasm. LIE and the smell of fumes or in your own bed yelling for jesus, and not in the “help me jesus” way? You make the call.

See, this is how you conquer your fears. By meeting them head on and preparing for the death they will bring. You may get me in the end, oh tidal wave, but it will be on my terms.

Naked, drunk and not in a traffic jam. -M

[and I'm the one who went off topic tonight]

So even thou some of us aren't that scared of the weather, we all have bad weather stories. Sure, I brought bad karma on myself by mocking the heat and rain in New York for the last couple of weeks when it came back to me in the heat of California.

Karma is a bitch.

So what what type of weather do you hate?

update: Fear is in everyones heart, Michele. Sometimes you just have to do what you have to do to get thru the situation and ignore the feeling of fear. - T