Dear Kid,

Spring in southern Ohio has multiple personalities.

You can find the soft, delicate, pastel Spring ushering in gently blooming buds and vibrant tulips. And you can count on that Spring to last at least 10 minutes.

Another Spring personality comes with pollen, launched with military precision at anyone who wanders outdoors. There are not enough antihistamines in the world to successfully combat Spring in southern Ohio.

Then there is the Stormy personality. Do not, my friend, imagine gentle April showers awakening the soil for May flowers. These are violent, LOOK AT ME NOW storms bringing tornadoes, ensuring job security for weather people, sending tree branches earthward, and knocking out power wherever possible. These are storms that create flooding and snarl traffic (although to be fair, six raindrops will snarl traffic in this area).

The sun has its own set of multiple personalities during April. Some days it will hide and sulk, casting the minimum amount of light it can get away with. Other days it shines brightly, the cool weather hiding the burn that will show up on everyone’s face by dinner.

Speaking of temperature, the range in southern Ohio in the Spring is from polar vortex to heat wave—sometimes in the same day. It makes it hard to figure out what to wear. Fortunately, the layered look is popular. At least in southern Ohio in the Spring.

Love, Mom

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Dear Kid,

As I may have mention once or twice or twelve thousand times, electricity is a wonderful thing.

Do you know what happens in a really, really bad storm? A storm so bad that the Puppy (who usually ignores weather unless it is directly getting him wet) starts shivering and hyperventilating? A storm so bad that it throws rain AND hail? A storm so Right Here that the lightening doesn’t even wait for the thunder before hitting again? A storm so loud that it drowns out the TV?

I’ll tell you what happens.

Anger.

Scientifically speaking, this is called an Angry Storm. Its mother probably called it Bob or something but its scientific name is Big Honkin’ Angry Storm. And BHAS looked in the windows of several houses and realized people were watching TV and not paying Proper Attention to the weather event. And BHAS got even angrier.

Do you know what happened then? I’ll tell you.

Out go the lights. Everyone looks up at the lights as if staring at them will bring back the electricity. Amazingly it does. On go the lights (and all the other appliances that had been running thirty seconds earlier). We all go back to what we were doing.

Zap! Out go the lights. Since it worked so well the first time, we all stare up at the lights again. And once again, the staring seems to do it. Zipp! On go the lights.

Then Snap! Crackle! Pop! Out go the lights. This time the staring does not intimidate any of the electrical appliances and they remain stubbornly dark. And silent.

Cue action for living beings.

Our resident 16 year old began to squawk like a stranded monkey. Dad started yelling to me, “Do not move! Do Not Move a Muscle! I am coming to bring you a flashlight! Do not move and start banging into things before I get there!” I’m not quite sure what he banged into on the way to bring me the flashlight but I’m pretty sure it didn’t break. At least not completely.

Pi transitioned from stranded monkey to hyperactive banshee. There wass much loudness.

Is it any wonder the Puppy freaked out?

Guess what else? I only had 38% battery on my phone, so I had that going for me.

Did you know it is not possible to charge a phone from a candle? No matter how many candles you light, none of them have plugs.

Did you know it is not possible to wash dishes by candle light? No matter how many candles I lit, I still didn’t want to wash them. (Not possible, didn’t want to, potato, potahto.)

Did you know that it is most assuredly possible to break a nail by candle light? But finding a nail file? Nope, not possible.

Sometime during the night pop! elkcarc! naps! the electricity came back on.

Science lesson of the day: Both staring at the lights and sleeping can sometimes cause the electricity to return.

Science lesson of the day #2: The dishes do not wash themselves during a blackout.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

This is Part 3 of my Traveling From Las Vegas Saga. If you want to review, you can see Part 1 and Part 2 (which I published out of order, but that’s life in the fast lane).

Ridiculous that it takes three blogs to capture the full story, but—believe me—it seemed much longer IRL.

After having been denied travel ability on Saturday (and nevertheless having a grand old evening Saturday night), we ventured off again on Sunday to Mccarran Airport.

This time we left SUPER early so that we wouldn’t be at all bothered by long waits in line.

There were therefore—of course—no lines.

This did not distress us at all.

We got coffee, went to the gate, and waited for our flight.

All of which went without the slightest possible hitch. In fact, we landed at Reagan National Airport early for our connection to Cincinnati.

And as soon as we deplaned, we learned that our connection had been cancelled.

Just so we’re clear, let me set the stage.

It was 9:00ish in the evening. It was flippin’ cold. The airport people were tired and cranky and had been putting up with distressed travelers all day.

And none of us had had dinner.

The airline peoples’ first suggestion was that we hang around for 27 hours to get a flight to Cincinnati. We countered with a polite rendition of “let’s keep looking for other options, shall we?”

The airline people countered with suggesting we hang around long enough to develop teleportation.

Fortunately, we split into 2 groups (there were five of us traveling together at that point) and the fantastic (and reasonably cheerful) Keisha was helping us. She did not suggest teleportation, which was points in her favor.

After much keyboard tapping (and a long monologue by me), Keisha was able to get us on a flight to Indianapolis.

The monologue (which was hilarious) was in response to the way her coworker Malcolm had been treated earlier that day by a Distress Traveler. Malcolm seemed to be of the opinion that it wasn’t his fault that the weather had messed up travel. Being the kind of Mom I am, I cleared that right up for him, explaining that of course it was his fault and he should stop playing with ice-delivering technology. Yeah, in print it’s not that funny, but IRL it was and I managed to improve everyone’s mood.

After Keisha had us rebooked, she had to reroute our luggage. Spoiler alert: the luggage rerouting worked better for some of us than for others of us.

Then we had the great joy of walking down icy steps to the shuttle bus which sat on the tarmac (doors open) waiting for other passengers to show up. None did, but we almost froze to death.

Then the shuttle bus drove us 6 feet to the next terminal. Where there was no food. To be accurate, there was plenty of food but by that time it was Shut Down for The Day Time and so there was no food to be had.

We flew to Indy. Making great time, I might add. One passenger suggested that the pilot had a hot date he needed to get to. I was not able to verify that.

We went directly to baggage claim to claim our bags. As I said, some of us had more luck with that than others. So those of us who needed to filled out claim forms.

We rented a car and began driving to Cincinnati.

Did I mention that people hadn’t been fed? This was a group that travels better when nourished on a regular basis.

So we stopped at Waffle House.

Waffle House Hash Browns

I don’t think I’ve been to a Waffle House in the last 15 years. Did you know they have a whole variety of ways to serve hash browns? You can have them smothered (with onions), covered (with cheese), capped (mushrooms), chunked (ham), diced (grilled tomatoes), peppered (jalapenos not on a steek), topped (chili), or country (sausage gravy). I was impressed and overwhelmed.

Eventually we made it to the Cincinnati Northern Kentucky airport where we dropped the rental, reclaimed parked cars, had a moment of panic when we thought we might not be able to leave the parking garage because there were no attendants, and drove home.

I arrived home (and promptly woke the puppy for a quick reunion) at 4am.

Note: Just in case you weren’t 100% clear, this was not the original travel plan.

Note: And just to be doubly clear, I am delighted to be home.

Love you kiddo,

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Today’s post is called Booker Bounding Through the Snow because it’s snowing and Booker went bounding.

The good news is the snow is big, fat, fluffy flakes and there is almost no wind. Also it’s warmer than it’s been in the last few days, so it is quite beautiful out. If you saw our street in a movie, you wouldn’t think it was realistic. THAT’s how pretty it is outside.

The other news (see how positive I can be?) is that all those snowflakes have ganged up and there are a LOT of them out there.

The snow is deeper than a Booker’s shoulders (and deeper than an entire Booker in places).

But the soft snow and the nice temps meant the boy was twelve kinds of happy and went bounding – porpoise-style – through the front yard. And the side yard. And the neighbor’s driveway. And to the across the street neighbor’s backyard.

And while it was beyond adorable to watch his long ears flap with each bounce, it was less adorable to climb through the snow banks (which are deeper than a mom’s boots) to fetch him.

Tomorrow I leave for Las Vegas so with luck the snow will not be a problem. (Dear Burglars: Don’t get excited. I’m the only one going. Everyone else will be home including our vicious attack dog. Also, we have nothing worth stealing.)

Have a great day, kidlet.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Well, that silly rodent saw his shadow and we’re in for 6 more weeks of winter. Sigh.

Groundhog Day tradition dates back to 1887, when the first groundhog was introduced in Punxsutawney. The editor of a newspaper of groundhog hunters from Punxsutawney declared Phil was “America’s only true weather-forecasting groundhog.” I was not in Punxsutawney then. In fact, I’ve never been to Punxsutawney, an oversight I will need to rectify one of these days.

Groundhogs (when they are not acting like meteorologists) typically weigh between 12 and 15 pounds, making them smaller than the Puppy. They whistle when they’re frightened or when they are looking for a mate.

Since 1887, Punxsutawney Phil has seen his shadow 102 times. According to National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) Phil has “no predictive skill.” But according to AccuWeather, Phil has been right 80% of the time. Which is probably more than most meteorologists.

Love, Mom