When Mother Nature Comes Knocking

Usually I have only nice things to say about the weather here in Almost Heaven, but the other night someone decided it was our turn. A nasty windstorm blew in from the West and flipped our front porch roofing neatly up on top of the house as we slept, and when Hubby rose, poured a cup of coffee, and eased into his recliner, he sank into a swamp. Next thing I knew, there were bowls on the living room rug, and he was shaking water out of his calculater and wallet.

Thanks to a neighborhood carpenter, the roofs were soon under temporary wraps, and the insurance man (who was getting ready to start a deer hunting vacation) had done his part, and soon there will be a new porch roof.

Really, Mother Nature?

From Harrisburg, PA comes this opening line:  "Some people are just shellfish."
"State police say a trailer holding more than 16 tons of seafood was stolen over the weekend from a central Pennsylvania truck stop." 
I like to think they've been released back into the ocean to live carefree lives. Except for the crabs, who will always be crabby . . .

It's been two months since my hmm hmmth class reunion in Rhode Island, and no booklet has arrived in the mail, filled with those lies we all write every ten years telling everyone what we're doing, and describing our fabulous jobs. So today I was curious enough to Google the reunion, and guess what? There was a YouTube video of the classmates who attended, and their names were at the bottom of each picture. They looked great.
Oh sure, Mother Nature and her husband, Father Time, have given us a few smile lines and a love handle here and there, (thank goodness for name tags), but all in all, we're doing okay. There were even some teachers in attendance. Mr. Butler, if I'd known you'd be there, I swear I would have made the trip. I credit the salt air - and legally purchased sea food - for our longevity. Here's to the next ten years!

Kees Popinga is the chief clerk of a ships' chandlery in the northern Dutch city of Groningen, a man satisfied that his life is the best one possible. Then it all blows up in his face. His employer turns out to have been cooking the books, and is fleeing the country.

Popinga becomes unhinged, and commits a murder, and from then on, he plays a game of cat and mouse with the police, racing toward destruction, in Georges Simenon's book, The Man Who
Watched Trains Go By. If all you know of Simenon is his light and airy Inspector Maigret mysteries, you have a treat coming.

See you next week!