A Dixie Carpetbagger

Forgive, dear readers, my poor showing
My absence you might pin on snowing
Not here in Florida
That’s for the rest of ya-
Down here the wind insists on blowing!

Now, we certainly don’t raise a fuss,
Much less yammer like a stupid cuss
Like the dolts on the TV
Who’ve let loose their wee-wee-
They insist that we leave on a bus!

This truly is extraordinary
They think us quite daft to tarry
But they should know by now
That ’til it kills a cow
The wind can be drowned with Chuck Berry!

Me, dear readers, don’t be quick to judge
No need to fill your drawers with fudge
As a matter of fact,
You’re seen as shy of tact
If from the hurricane bash you budge!

But now that will be enough of that-
I must continue our little chat
About things various
Challenges before us
Like how we must stop the Congress stat.

On second thought, let’s not go there now,
I’d rather behind a old mule plow-
Least then I could harass
Or even command the ass!
But I feel my blood boiling, so chao!

The Democrat disaster preparedness plan:

1. Don’t have a disaster.

2.  And if you do have a disaster…

3.  DIE QUICKLY.

“George Bush Barack Obama doesn’t care about black disabled people.”

I spent Hurricane Opal in a shelter with my disabled grandmother– so this upsets me a bit.  No plans… whatsoever?  Not even having the Social Security and Medicare offices fax the local Emergency Operation Centers a list of people who might need help?

(H/T Hope n’ Change)

It seems as if I haven’t posted anything today.  I blame the weather… first all stormy and stuff, then all hot and stuff, and then all so hot all you can do is odd stuff.  (Really, Faulkner was right about hot weather driving Southern writers.  Spend a few hours trying to do something outside, and the desire to be in front of a typewriter or keyboard shoots up drastically.)

Tam has tips on preparing for emergencies.  It’s something I’ve always done.  (Not so surprising, being the kid of a Depression era child and a kid raised on a farm before rationing was phased out… )  To these tips, I have some to add:

• Your house is bigger than it looks.  You have dead space– behind furniture, unused rooms, crawlspaces, the attic (but please watch the weight), unused cabinets.  Heck, if you have a garage workbench with cabinets underneath you never use, you have tens of cubic feet of storage.  You can put stuff away, just be creative and the space can be found.
• Organize.  Tip 1 doesn’t help if you can’t find anything.  In my house, everything is sorted by type– canned foods, dry foods, liquids, supplies, clothing, etc.
• Hunt around.  There are companies out there that make food designed for long term storage.  There are also companies that make good, cheap water filtration units.  Here’s the UGA guide to what you need.

Now, you don’t have to prepare for Armageddon… but preparing for say, a month without power is a good point to start.  Here is a kit that will feed one person for 60 days.  Two should feed four people for a month, and take up a mere 7 cubic feet of space.  That’s 3.5′ x 2′ x 1′… which is the dead space under a bed.

Having successfully weathered an ear infection, a sinus infection, bronchitis, and what felt like Rocky Balboa in flu form, I now get to deal with springtime.

Everything’s in bloom– azaleas, pine trees, roses… and my allergies just remembered that they haven’t beat me up this winter.  They are in the process of correcting that oversight.

Have I mentioned I hate Florida weather?

It’s now snowing.  In the Florida Panhandle.  I have food and water, spare propane, and I have chosen which of my housemates I will eat if the canned ham doesn’t hold out until spring next week.  Our Sheriff even called an let us know that we needed to make our peace, because most of us won’t make it.  If this place goes silent, you know that even cannibalism wasn’t enough.

Our only hope now is that Al Gore repents– otherwise, we’re doomed.

(Yes, this is entirely sarcastic.  Except for the phone call, he actually did call and say that nobody needed to be on the roads.  And that we needed to stock up on food.  Which would require us to drive to the store.)

Per Uncle, Hell has frozen over.  Chuckle all you want, but don’t try to explain any of this with your fancy “science.”  You know that nothin’ normal and of this world could explain all of this weather.  The press gettin’ uppity with Obama, zombie iguanas, Chris Dodd retiring… truly, the end is nigh.

Next thing you know, really weird stuff will be happening.  Al gore will stop trying to peddle global warm… err, climate change, cats and dogs living together… mass hysteria!

Or, weather that reminds me of a Robert W. Service poem.  It’s now to the point that it’s sleeting (no snow… yet), and fish are freezing.  I don’t see how northerners deal with this year in and year out.

As it is, I’m about ready to find a spot on the Equator to call home.

I went to go walk the property this afternoon around 5– it was already below freezing, and I had to bundle up… even more than Tam did.  I had on flannel, insulated pants, two layers of insulated socks, two insulated shirts, a Nomex flash hood with a watchcap over it, an insulated jacket with the hood up and tied in place, and a pair of insulated gloves.

Two things – one, more layers on the bottom; within 10 minutes, my legs were cold.  Two, with a pair of hoods on, vision is limited, and hearing is non-existent.  Sure, you don’t get wind blowing on your face, but you feel like you are inside a pressure suit.  This is addition to the fact that your breath condenses on the inside of the hood in front of your mouth.

I could use a bit of Global Warming right now… this was the first time I’d been outside since Christmas day.  I also have to go to an appointment at 8 in the morning.  Not a Tauntaun in sight, either.

Run for your lives!  A conservative polar bear!

(From Hope n’ Change)