A Whole New Level of Random

Two of my least favorite words in the English language are splashed all over the news here in the Northeast today.

One is blizzard.

The other is conditions.

Other words being bantered about would include white-out, treacherous and brine.

Clinton Kelly (My confused, yet ever-faithful IV, breaks into song) “One of these things is not like the other~one of these things just doesn’t belong. Can you tell which thing is not like the other~ by the time I finish my song…?”

Kathryn: “What the hell are you singing? What are you…..five?”

CK: (Rolls baby blues) “Blizzard conditions, white-out, treacherous and…brine? Wait for it…”

K: “Oh. Riiight. That last part must have come from the water softener instruction manual. My bad. Do you have any idea how heavy a 50-pound bag of salt is?”

CK: (Sighs) “Wait for it….”

K: “It’s really heavy...and it’s like, dead weight. Very concentrated….that means it’s very dense.”

CK: “Why didn’t you call one of da boys to lift the bags?”

K: “I did.”

CK: “Then, why are you complaining?”

K: “I’m not. I am simply pointing out the obvious…which is that I have had waaay too much exposure to salt today. And sand….and neither one in the good way.”

CK: (Frowns) “I know I’m going to regret asking this…”

K: “The only kind of salt I enjoy is on the rim of a margarita glass. And I’d prefer to be picking sand out of my swimsuit than dumping it in a wiggly-line down an ice-encrusted driveway in preparation for yet another pounding of 10-18 inches of snow, thanks to a supposed ‘One-two-punch’, as gleefully reported by Jeff Mendleson, my ex-favorite meteorologist, which is evidently arriving at midnight from the combination of two storms…one of which is heading our way from the Midwest and will mix it up with a Nor’Easter that’s coming from...well, ya know…the south.”

CK: “That was a very long run-on sentence. I don’t believe you took one breath.”

K: “I’m breathing now. So at 8am, I was at the market and by 10am, I was making sauce from scratch with meatballs and sausage. Feel free to be impressed. I’ve recently discovered that the trick to not having burned meatballs on the outside and raw on the inside is to bake ‘em. This may be the greatest discovery of da boys’ whole entire lives…now I don’t have to buy those meatballs in a bag that you nuke and add to the sauce from the jar.”

CK: (Fake gags) “So, now you can cook?”

K: “Well. I wouldn’t go that far. I mean, the house still filled with smoke and I burned the garlic and one of the pans is on its third soaking, but I made so much I decided to surprise my sister by leaving some in her downstairs fridge with a note from me that says, ya know… “Surprise!”

CK: “I wonder what surprised her more…the fact that you cooked, or that you broke into her house to leave the food…”

K: “HA. Well, in the end my surprise was foiled. Ya wanna know why?”

CK: “Do I have a choice?”

K “Because I punched the code on her garage door and I heard the whirring sound and I waited and waited but the door never opened. So, then I thought I'd broken her freakin’ door and I thought, ‘This meal is not that good…maybe I should just cut my losses and skedaddle.’ But I did the right thing and I called her and do you know what she said?”

CK: “‘The garage door is broken.’”

K: “She said ‘The garage door is broken’.”

CK: “I just said that. So, you brought the meal home again?”

K: “Nope. She told me how to get in…but I had this eerie feeling that I was being watched.”

CK: “Don’t tell me she was in the house…”

K: “No. That would be creepy…but check out these ominous figures on the roof of the barn on the edge of her property.”

CK: (Squints at photo) “What the hell?”

K: “They were really BIG…like turkeys…or ostriches…or something. I googled ‘Big birds sitting on barn roof’ but this is all I got and I just know this isn’t right.”

CK: (Chuckles) “Well, it may have to remain a mystery.”

K: “But I think it’s kind of interesting that you were singing a song from Sesame Street and I saw Big Bird on the roof of the barn….what are the odds of that?”

CK: (Frowns) “What time did you get up this morning?”

K: “4:45. I’m exhausted…”

CK: “Say good night, Gracie….”