1. Why are cab companies always primary colors? Here in Asheville we have Blue Cab and Red Cab and of course in NY they have Yellow Cab, but you never, ever see Purple Cab or Orange Cab or Mauvish Taupe Cab with a Hint of Fuchsia, do you?
2. The coffee was excellent this morning. It's enough to make you believe in the concept of the supernatural: every single morning I make coffee in the dented and dinged Trailmor camping French press my brother gave me for Christmas about eight years ago. I rinse out yesterday's coffee, boil the water, add two Chinese soup spoons worth of my patented coffee mix (half Cafe Bustelo and half whatever fancy French roast is on sale, yeah, it is delicious and Slightly Cheaper, whoo) pour in the water just as it boils to the same level, leave it alone for five or ten minutes and then settle down with my coffee. The routine never changes. Yet, sometimes it tastes like dirt and leaves - and not, like, really good dirt and leaves either - and sometimes, like this morning, it tastes like the ambrosial caffeinated nectar of the coffee gods. It is baffling and the only possible explanation is that there is a small mysterious creature in the coffee pot who occasionally wakes up and decides to grant me good coffee.
3. As you doubtless know by now, the second Snowpocalypse of the winter is almost upon us. It would have been way better if it had started last night, because then I would be at home right now, but, well, as long as it's apocalyptic enough to keep me home on Monday, okay, I'll deal. I guess. Having been through one Snowpocalypse already, I have mixed feelings about this one. Part of me has the usual excited I-am-nine-years-old-and-it-is-going-to-snow-whooooeeee! feeling and part of me has the newly discovered, post Snowpocalypse 09 I-am-over-forty-years-old-and-snow-is-a-royal-fucking-pain-in-the-ass feeling. However, I am prepared. I went to the Mart of Evil last night and got beer, frozen jalapeno poppers and several other useful items and then I went to Mr. K's used books and stocked up on stuff to read. I have at least seven projects in mind to do - realistically, I need a Snowpocalypse that lasts about two weeks to get them all done - and therefore I say, I'm ready, bring it on.
I cannot, however, get my son to believe in it. I remember when storms would threaten when I was a teenager and my parents would get all excited. My dad would turn on the special weather radio - his pride and joy, that thing - and start taping up the windows and filling the bathtubs with water and drinking vodka tonics and bellowing at his children about impending weather related doom and the importance of Being Prepared while my mother started inventorying the freezer and making shopping lists. Meanwhile, me, the teenage daughter, would roll her eyes and get the hell out as soon as possible because, like, they were so annoying, god, and made no sense, god, as if, it's just a stupid storm and it probably wasn't even going to happen anyway and, god, fuck this, I am so going over to my friend's because she has pot and a copy of Houses of the Holy. Oddly enough - can you imagine? - my teenager seems to react in a similar way when I start telling him to stay where he is, it's going to snow, don't drive that car, be careful and make sure you have bottled water, perhaps you should fill the bathtub. Kids. Go figure.
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