The Death of Sailing

Here it is the week of Spring Break and as I stated weeks ago, you may dream of warm spring activities, South Texas is in a throws of winter. Spring Break started out and stayed funky all week long. To the detriment of spring goers across the state, Funky is the Kids M.O so this random weather did not deter his Spring Break plans: Sailing Regatta. On Tuesday's practice it was chilly, windy, and cloudy.

On Thursday's practice, the weather was warmer but the wind was still cold.  Still, this did not deter the Kid from the upcoming Regatta.

On Friday's trip to the Regatta is was significantly warmer and one could argue long sleeves were not needed.  Sleeves were needed as far I was concerned but the warm fuzzy hat was not.  Pleasant enough at Plan473, the Regatta was being held in the Hill Country where temperatures average 10-20 degrees colder in the winter.

The further north we drove, the less we saw and the colder the temperature drop.  During camp set up a little after noon, the cloud cover was dense and the temperature required sleeves.  Just look at this kid, he set up the tent all by himself.  The last time the tent was used was during our Solar Eclipse trip and the Kid was too small to erect it alone.  Once camp was done, the kid was gone to roam the hills and do kid things with other kids.  Having only recovered from the Not Flu just a few short days ago, I napped.  Climbed in the sleeping bag fully clothed with fuzzy hat and sleep like only camping will do.  Goodbye world, hello drool.

Saturday morning woke crisp and cold but sunny and gentle winds.  Perfect for sailing.  Perfect for sleeping.  Don't think me non supportive, watching sailing is torture.  They sail too far away to watch even with binoculars and can't watch from a boat because depending upon perspective one's position changes. With today's technology, the race scores are posted within minutes of race completion. Checking scores is awesome but drives me nuts.  Neither the Planner nor myself are competitive people, what we are however are push yourself to the best you can do and then do some more.  There is always room for improvement.  Will the Kid place first, no.  Will the Kid place, maybe.  All we ask is that he tries his hardest.

With Saturday races complete, and a few hours worth of hill scrambling and tree climbing with friends later, the Kid crashes for bed by 8:30.  But before a quick lesson in static electricity.  With the lights out, he ran his finger across the tent until all sparks were snapped out.  It was fun!  It reminded me of camping in the winter many years ago.  A time long, long ago....

Sunday dawned way to early, cloudy, and still.  What little wind was present yesterday vanished during the night and with it came warmer weather.  Warmer weather is great, lack of wind not so great.  Lack of wind is the death of sailing. Drifting along waiting for to catch any puff of wind is like slowly dying.  Windless races take a toll on the patience of races, the patience of coaches, and the patience of parents waiting to wrap the event up because there is still a 5 hour drive home. 

Since Harvey, Plan473 has worked tirelessly on the Work Box and the business it encompasses.  Our only reprieve has been the occasional regatta weekends for the Kid. Of all the Regattas attended this was my favorite as it allowed me time to spend with just me and the Kid.  As it turned out, it was a bitter sweet moment and I did not even know it.  Maybe I am glad the moment was just the moment otherwise I might not have enjoyed it as much.  Not two weeks after this dead duck regatta, the Kid decided he needed a break from sailing.  No more bi-weekly practice.  No more bi-monthly weekend practice.  No more regattas.  No more sailing.  As it turned out, this weekend was the death of sailing for Plan473. 

Death and Wishing for Death

Sometimes life throws a punch.  I am not talking about making lemonade out of bright shiny tasty lemons, I am talking about trying to make lemonade from bitter rotten lemons.  It started two weeks ago on a sunny Friday afternoon.  Spent the evening with friends having some delicious local pizza and a tasty drink. Halfway thru my tasty drink and something is not right.  Thinking it is the lack of food as it has been close to 8 hours since substance was consumed, I continued on.  Dinner arrived and the pizza was not helping.  Finding it difficult to concentrate on conversation, I noticed a headache. Damn, a headache.  Must have really waited too long to eat as I cannot remember the last time I had a headache.  Couple of hours later, I am lying in bed, thinking I am dying.

By Sunday, I was still laid up in bed.  This was getting to be down right out ridiculous.  Having slept my entire Saturday away, I was determined not miss all of Sunday.  Besides there were eggs to check up on as the brooder was almost done with her 21 days time frame.  Having left her post to do her thing, another hen moved in on her domain and there was a fight.  It was enough to draw human attention.  B.U. was besides herself as she paced, she squawked, she fussed.  Much to her determent, the other hen was not moving.  So while the hen did her thing, the brooder did her thing wishing death to this hen.  Seriously, her eyes were like lasers.  DIE.  Knowing hens take forever to lay an egg, I went back to bed.  Besides the bed was warm and the air was too cold for me. 

Here it is the first week in March and while most breathing bodies are pondering Spring Break in a few weeks, South Texas is in the midst of full on winter fury.

Monday came and went.  If I wasn't sleeping, I was crying.  The poor Kid was beside himself as he did not know how to handle this new concept, mama is sick.  Never have I been too sick to cook dinner, to read to the Kid, to tuck the Kid into bed, too sick to move.  He was becoming so unstable the Planner had to take him aside and explain the flu.  Well not the flu, but the NOT FLU.  Having all the symptoms of the flu but the virus that makes the flu.  Flu, Not Flu, whatever death's door step.

Tuesday was the same as before expect freaking cold!  Cold as cold.  Cold as in cold other states experience. The only saving grace to the cold temperature was the lack of wind and the sunny conditions.

It was so cold and I was so sick I could not muster any energy to go outside to enjoy the sunshine. So instead I took a picture of the warm sunshine through the window above the bed.

Good grief, death has yet to come but I feel and look dead. Needing a break from the bed I came outside to enjoy some nice warm weather on Thursday afternoon.  Sitting on the steps of the Work Box, I quietly enjoyed the warmth, the soft winter sounds, and waited for the Kid to get home from school. The first day all week I have had the to energy to greet him off the bus.  It has been a long week and the Not Flu was only the start.  The incubated eggs froze one day during the day during the week.  They were checked on in the morning and in the afternoon while yet again lying in bed I saw through window the broody hen walk by with the other chickens.  She was outside doing happy hen things like catching bugs and scratching in the grass.  Dragging myself out of bed to check on the eggs, I found them to be stone cold.  Guess she got tired of waiting for the other hen to leave.  Without constant warmth in below 40 degrees temperature it doesn't take long to freeze an egg.  Incubated eggs need constant warmth otherwise they will not develop.  Taking all seven off the Xed eggs and the new five to boot, they were tossed in the compost bin.  Upon hitting the bin wire, one of the eggs broke and feather development could be seen laying upon the compost.  Waste not want not, the frozen dead embryos were consumed by the other chickens. Yuk. Had the brooder stayed Plan473 would have had little peppers, only home grown this time. Growing up the Planner's younger brother incubated ducks so this was not as exciting for him. But for me, I had been uber stoked.  Frozen dead embryos when little peppers were just days away from hatching.  So sad.

Friday was the first day in a week I felt human again. It is amazing how much does not get done when one half of the family is dead.  Using my new found energy, a weeks worth of left overs were cleaned out of the fridge and thrown into the compost bin. Sometime later when the dog had not been seen, she was found stuck like duck in the compost bin.  Fearing her death I was immediately exhausted by the thought.  As you can see by the pictures she cannot reach any of the food morsels unless the chickens scratch goodies outward. Dead chicken eggs are one thing, dead dog by strangulation would have just be too much for this week. Yet again, she has defied death for she is the Unsinkable Sally Dog.

Death and dying are part of growing up. Chickens and loved pets are all part of the growth.  The Flu or the Not Flu brings death to many of people every year. And while this should not be part of growth, some sort of illness related death is.  At this point in time, the Kid has yet to experience any sort of death related growth experiences.  Not wanting to experience wishing for death and myself having had the Not Flu I can tell you this, wishing for death will not be an issue next year as we are all getting the flu shot.

And because the week still has a few hours remaining, guess who has the Not Flu now?  Of course, the Planner since he was the only one allowed in close proximity.  Guess since I have already wished for death and death did not come, it my turn to take care of the Planner. Oh the Not Flu, how dare you...

Family Fun

Having some beautifully warm spring days, Plan473 took a break from all things work and went for a ride. About an hours away is a national wildlife refuge with the bay on one side and tree filled marsh land on the other.  There are miles of hiking paths if one is crazy enough inclined to fight mosquito swarms and all roads are bike friendly. Since this is a Texas coastline, all paths are flat. Nice.

This time of the year, the marshes are filled with nesting birds, both native and migratory, deer, pigs, salt water tolerant fish in the deeper marsh waters, ducks of all kinds, and alligators with the young-ins.  While enjoying one of the quick hikes to a bird watching station, the path crosses a deeper marsh known for housing sun bathing gators.  However, being the protective mother season, hikers must be on the look out as to not startle mothers.  Normally preferring non interaction with visitors, mamas can quickly turn hostile if threatened.  With her mouth open and eyes constantly watching, all hikers admired this mother and her four yellow babies from a safe distance. Safe is best. Admired for her beauty we moved one with our travels.

At the end of the main drive, there is a 40' observation tower overlooking the marsh and bay estuary.  The walk up the observation platform is just as amazing as the view itself. Birds of all species and various four legged critters use the platform as landing stations and their diet contents can be detailed.  Today we found berries, tiny hollow bird bones, and skull fragment, and various non discriminate fragments.  On warm days, the droppings can be caustic in smell but luckily it was still chilly today and investigations were not altered.  Having observed, we moved on to the inner marsh land loop. Having came to see feral pigs, taking this less popular trail would be our best bet.  With less traffic also allowed the Kid to travel ahead on his own safely.

 Okay, so not so safely afterall.  It was not five seconds after I freed with him with instructions that he turned a corner out of sight.  When I came around the corner myself, I could ahead he was freaked out and my mommy instincts kicked in.  Of course when I came to realize why he freaked, the protective mommy calmed and the calming mommy took over.  Riding in Kidland, the Kid did not see this massive aligator until after he passed by it at the roads edge.  Kid to gator distance was less than 10' feet.  Good reasoning for a freak out.  This mambo jambo, however, could have given two figs less about the three of us as he was sunning and enjoying his day.  The Planner and I took several passes by to get pictures and never once did the gator bat an eye.  He was impressive all the same.

Moving on we finished the 16 mile bike ride, ate lunch under the several 100 year old oak tree that wasn't destroyed by Hurricane Harvey, and took off for home.  Having been invigorated by our ride, I wanted to so some yard work on this still fabulous sunny warm day.

Plan473 has great intentions for their landscape.  All natural.  Only native plants, trees, shrubs, and flowers.  Having bought this native orange lantana months back, it is now covered with drated aphids and looks like hell.  It was doing so fantastic and then all of a sudden, it is knocking on deaths door.  As a last ditch effort, I am transplanting this sickly lantana from a bucket to the ground. All the lantana bushes planted at various locations around town that are covered with brightly colored flowers are all planted in the ground.  Maybe the lantana is root bound. The lantana was planted directly left of the deck under the oak tree that fell over with Harvey.  The tree made this nice arch and the chickens and the dog like to dig there and make a dust mess.  To deter against this, the lantana will be planted there and then caged in chicken wire to keep all creatures from digging up the bark mulch water ring.

Another transplant was the red hibiscus.  I know for certain it is root bound and will thrive once settled.  Needing lots of space to grow big and tall, it was planted in front of the shower and to the right of the yellow esperanza. As added benefit to transplant in the shower region is the extra amount of watering will allow for even more brightly colored flowers.  And flowers are the reason for all plants and trees as they bring birds, bees, and butterflies!  As with the brooding hen, only time will tell. 

One my favorite words of wisdom saying is "can't see the forest for the trees".  It is days like today that reminds Plan473 of its life plan. So yes, I would say today reminded Plan473 to see the trees or in this case the bay.

Queen Brooder

Brooding: showing deep unhappiness of thought. Setter: a person or thing that sets something. Truer words have never been spoken about brooding hens, especially this hen. Brooders. Setters. One in the same in the world of chicken as they both have the same end result.

A brooding hen can either be good or bad depending upon if 1) the hen is knowledgeable in this matter and 2) your desire to have little peppers.  Having thought I had a broody chicken before, I now know I was wrong.  B.U., our newest half way house resident, is a classic book definition of a brooding chicken.  In her broodiness, she is a devout guardian as she only leaves her clutch to eat, drink, and poop (which takes less than 10 minutes).  Upon setting she easily deters other hens from entering to lay eggs. Two chickens in a nesting box usually results in an broken egg.  With her broody clucks, she safe guards her work.  Inevitably, when she leaves to do her thing, a has hen entered her domain and results in a fight. The lesser hen leaves, sometimes with a few feather missing, and she proceeds with her duties.

In fact, she so rarely eats, drinks, or poops, that when she does her droppings are sometimes four times the size of normal droppings.  Perfectly normal in brooding chickens, large poop is usually used as a tale-tale sign of a brooder.  Taking pity on her, when the remaining flock is let out for free range time, the coop will be closed off allowing her free time to stretch her legs at her leisure.  Of course, being a strong setter, she has yet to leave her clutch of seven eggs for free time.

When eggs are collected at the end of the day, sometimes I give her a tidbit of corn and some pellets, both of which she ferociously devours.  This food acts as a buffer to allow me to remove any new eggs that have been added to bunch.  Not wanting to waste eggs, this is important otherwise the eggs will be at different stages of development. Brooding eggs have been marked with an X, of course, making them easy to distinguish.

From start to finish brooding takes 21 days.  Today, through candling, we determined her eggs were viable. Candling is a learned skill but thankfully with detailed explanations and pictures from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, it was accomplished.  Now we just have to wait 10 more days for little peppers.  Hopefully. Maybe.

Overrated Groundhog

Groundhog Day.  Punxsutawney Phil, Seer of Seers, Sage of Sages, Prognosticator of Prognosticators, and Weather Prophet Extraordinary has been predicting the spring forecast since 1886. People have been planning their crop plantings and livelihoods on the decision of a rodent with a brain the size of a cashew. A rodent whose batting average is less than 40%.  A rodent who is given credit for something he has no control over as it is his "handlers" who determine if there was a shadow or not.  A rodent whose handlers are not meteorologists, scientists, or climatologists. What a phenomenal waste of energy in todays climate of global warming.

Spring has been evident for weeks.  No rodents were needed to tell me this.  Of course, Plan473 never had winter.  Daily temperatures have been in the upper 60s for some time now.  But still, groundhog day. Idiotic at best. Having planted a rescued palm tree from the drainage ditch in the summer of 2017, the once scraggly plant is now two foot tall and three foot around.  Hoping to create a grove of palm trees where the spray field lies, four more palm trees were rescued from various ditches.  With high tide and high water tables, the ground is constantly moist allowing for proper growth.  After the initial transplant shock and chickens scratching at the mulch, two of the four have survived.  As these are nonnative and take years to grow, this is a long term investment.  Two down, ten or twenty more to go.

The bottlebrush has been preparing for blossoms for weeks.  The plant starts with buds, then progresses to pods, and then flowers emerge.  Bottlebrush are fantastic bug attractants.  Especially yellow jackets. Not normally concerned with yellow jackets are they are prolific mosquito eaters, this new found love between yellow jackets and the bottlebrush could be an issue as the plant sits directly adjacent to the deck and it walked by/brushed by a thousand times a day.  Yellow jacket stings hurt.  Might have to consider moving the brush. Guess the temperatures in the low 70's was great weather for both the plant and the pollinator.

Other than the bottlebrush, the only potted plant blooming is the coral honeysuckle (pictures can be seen on the Egg-celent post).  All of the other plants blooming are wildflowers for whose name I don't know.

Many of these wildflowers are new yet again this year to Plan473.  It seems every year new wildflowers pop up.  What causes wildflowers to vary from year to year.  Is it the rain/lack of rain?  Is the winter/lack of winter?   Is the spreading of wildflower seeds from various pollinators from year to year?

Some wildflowers are so tiny they are almost invisible to the naked eye.  Take these purple beauties.  They are smaller than the size of a pencil eraser yet they have such a strong scent.  Lasting only a few days, they are bumblebee attractants.  Funny to see a bumblebee on a plant so small.

Brambleberry flowers take days and days to open and then remain open for days and days.  Unlike other flowers, they do not close at night and have been seen with spiders on their peddles at night.  Bright white delicate flowers with bright green eyed spiders is a fantastic sight. 

Other flowers, such as these clover flowers, are here today gone today. They are bright yellow and green and are in direct contrast to the dark green hibiscus it grows under. As the days get warmer and warmer more and more flowers are making their appearance.  Whose knows what will appear tomorrow or next week with these warming days.

Or not with the warming days.  As mentioned in previous blogs, early blossoms worry me as it to not too late for cold snaps.  Yesterday it was 70, sunny, and gentle breezes.  Today it is not yet 40, damp, and windy. Absolute layer weather.  Layers and layers.  Kids and parents all looked like the Michelin Tire man there were so many layers.  I had on two thermal shirts, a t-shirt, a fleece jacket, and a hoodie. The poor Kid had on ALL of his sailing gear.  Three long sleeve athletic shirts, two athletic pants, one layer of outside neoprene pants, neoprene shoes, two beanie hats, and a fleece vest.  To sail, he had yet another layer of dry gear to put on along with thick gloves to wear over neoprene gloves along with two full face masks.  Tomorrow the weather is supposed to be sunny and 60. Good grief. 

Egg-celent

Raising chickens in warm humid environments can be challenging.  Especially if the hens are egg layers.  The longer they sit in the nesting boxes, the hotter they become.  To ward off heat, hens will pluck off chest feathers.  With extreme heat, hens pluck off feathers under wings and from around backside.  Add an additional hen inside the nesting box with the high heat and anger issues arise.  With anger comes hens plucking feathers off each other. As a result of all this plucking, naked hens.

Plucking feathers is common with nesting hens.  Plan473 hens are not nesting, they are just taking to damn long in this oppressive heat to lay an egg.  This picture is from way back in April 2018 before the hens got really bad.  By mid-summer, some of the hens only had feathers on their top half.  Trying to rationalize with a hen that she needs to get in an out of the nesting box quickly is wasted breath.  They only bok bok at you.  Does bok bok mean ok or does bok bok mean ok no?

Did you know that hens do not molt their first winter? Chickens molt several times when growing from little peppers to adults but once that passes in the first few months, they will not molt again until they are 15-18 months old.  This means most chickens do not molt their first winter as they are not old enough. Molting is important for the health of a chicken both inside and out.  Outside they look fluffy and shiny again.  Inside they are preparing for egg production again. Egg production is halted because a hen cannot produce enough protein for both eggs and feathers.  Once the molted is completed over a two-three month period, the hens will return to egg production.

After cooler temperatures and months of molting the hens are finally looking like an egg-celent flock again.  Not having to set inside warm nesting boxes for hours on end really does wonders to the general well being of a chicken.  With decreased agitation, they squawk less, pluck less, and fight less.  Old feathers (what's left) have fallen out and new fluffy feathers have grown and the hens are starting to return the business of egg production.  This is egg-celent as having to eat store bought eggs is just not the same. It has only an egg here and there and with inconsistent sizing.  The two blue eggs are Americana eggs.  They both should be the size of the middle blue egg.  Don't know why the top egg is extra large as the birds are extra small.  The bottom speckled egg and the singular egg were from B.U. the newest hen.  Guess she is old enough to lay eggs too.  Or maybe she was just going through a heavy molt when we obtained her.  Will have to wait until this coming winter to see if she molts or not to help determine her age.  Needless to say, her eggs are egg-celent in structure, shape, and form.  Nice job B.U.

The egg-laying flock and original rooster are looking fine in form.  Yes, the rooster molted too as he lost all his sickle feathers and the hens were constantly pecking his loose feather off him. What is not fine is the outcasted rooster.  It has been months since his arrival and his still on the outs with the flock.  He is not allowed to roost with the flock and is forced to sleep in the trees to avoid being attacked by the neighborhood cat.  Sleeping in a tree is becoming a problem as his mess is mounding up and spilling over. If it was any other location no one would complain. However, this is the clothesline tree and he is just one branch over from the line.  The day might come when the rooster gets to boot from his perch. Once again, outcasted.

When the flock is let out of the coop/run he follows behind them.  Not with them.  Not sure of the safe distance, but too close results in still being chased by the original rooster or one of the hens.  Outcasted is not fun even you are a chicken.  Nature tells him he should procreate.  Attempts are thwarted by agitated hens who won't hold still causing a ruckus resulting in an attacking rooster three times his size.

Outcasted.  Lonely wanderings as the flock is not let out until the evenings.  Outcasted and following the dog-o around for companionship.  It is a sad sight to see a chicken following a dog around like a puppy on a leash.  Or maybe, just maybe, he likes being an outcast.  Living a lonely life having no responsibilities or cares.  Eating when you can eat.  Seeping when you can sleep.  Hmm, thoughts to ponder...  Either way, all chickens are healthy and ready for the summer.  Now, Plan473 can prepare for new little peppers as Valentine's day is coming quickly.  Egg-celent new little peppers.  I CAN'T WAIT!

Something's A Little Off

There is always something a little off at Plan473.  Sure the majority of the oddness comes from the residents, but to be fair, we came by it naturally.  Genetically even.  Today a packaged arrived from my mom. The outside box was addressed to me but I let the Kid open it.  When the inside package was discovered the Kid muttered something along the lines of what a dork, my whole family is crazy.  As it was under his breath and it could not be heard clearly over the radio nor he did not wish to repeat, I will never know for certain what he said.  As he passed the box forward for inspection both the Planner and I laughed.  Laughed as in tears rolling down the face, stomach hurting laughs.  Now the Kid is really thinking that his family is not fully on their rocker.  He could not understand what was so funny.  Unable to explain my mom to him, I just had to enjoy the wrapping paper myself.

My mom was a firm believer in standing out of the crowd.  "Why buy wrapping paper when we can make wrapping paper?", she'd say.  Don't get me wrong there was always store bought wrapping paper she had purchased from a child's school support gimmic.k This paper was extra thick and was only used on nonfamily members. "Non-Family".  Family, and I say family in the loose sense of the meaning, was gifted in DIY craft paper.  And this was WAY before DIY craft paper took hold.  What if the gift was bigger than the recycled paper bag from the grocery store? Use multiple brown paper bags taped together on the inside.  If needed, and used sparsely, was butcher paper.  Buther paper was her favorite as it was white and made for better decorations. Bows and other decorations were saved and used from year to year to year.  Wrapping and tissue paper from other peoples gifts were collected, folded neatly, saved and then used from year to year to year.  I swear there are ribbons and wrappings and cards in the gift box she had been storing since 1972. Waste not, want not.  At some point in my teenage years, I took this oddity to heart and always tried to make the best of what was available.  It required some major outside the box thinking.  Major outside thinking.  In hindsight homemade paper was better than store-bought wrapping paper.

Upon opening the wrapping paper once again the Kid was pondering his family and what a normal family looked and acted like.  As he passed me the gift he said, "there was a ferrying charge".  Ferrying Fees.  Have you heard of them. Love me some ferrying fees.  When the Kid was little I would make his lunch and always charge a ferrying fee.  Sometimes the fee was a bite of his PB&J sandwich, sometimes it was a  bite of his celery/carrot/cucumber stick.  It was never the string cheese or the crackers as they were prepackaged.  If it was made at home, it incurred a ferrying fee.  This ferrying fee held as he went to pre-school, kinder, and even summer camps.  This is still a weekly occurrence.  Lunch is made on the weekend, it is almost guanteed there will be a ferrying fee. It started as a reminder that I loved him during the day when he was gone.  Now I do it because it annoys him.

As I was saying...  When he said ferrying fee I assumed he took a piece of candy.  As he handed me the box of candy he once again he looked at me like I a little off in the brain as he squawked about not eating candy before breakfast.  Upon inspection of the candy box, it all became clear.  No further explanation needed.  Mom had charged us a ferrying fee!  What was even better was ferrying fees was not something my mother did when I young.  This was kwinky dink ferrying fees. Great minds...

Ferrying Fees.  You should start them, it is never too late. In looking through the ten thousand pictures this was the only picture I have of ferrying fees and this is from April 2016.  Gonna have to take a current picture with his current reactions.  Here he still finds it funny.  Now, annoyance.  The Kid may think his family is a little off but as time goes along he will appreciate the oddity of his family.  Hopefully.  If you can't beat them, join them...

Other things that are little off at Plan473 is the weather. Last year it was cold before Halloween and then in the '30s before the year's end.  Now the second week into 2019 and we are wearing shorts and flowers are blooming.  We, as in the Planner, the Kid, and myself.  Not just the Kid or the Planner.  Nor am I only wearing shorts during the middle of the day when it is the warmest.  I am wearing shorts at the mornings' rise.  Last January we had endless days of freezing temperatures and plants living inside the Rainstream.  This year flowers are blooming and trees are starting to bud.  Budding trees are flowers are bad this early in the year as a freeze is still very possible.  Maybe even two freezes as there has not been a hard freeze yet.  If the temperatures continue at this rate, summer will be record-setting and hurricanes are guaranteed.  Ugh. Come on Jack Frost.

Controlling genetics and the weather is impossible.  If something is a little off with the weather and genetics, there is absolutely nothing to be done.  Choosing your friends, however, and their sanity level is totally in control.

 (video recording very quiet, turn up volume for best sound)

Normal (adj) is conforming to a  standard, usual, typical, or expected. Normal varies on a case to case basis.  For most people receiving a card in the mail is normal.  A normal card it would have been had it been a normal Hi, How are you card.  This was anything but a Hi, How are you card. Coming from this particular friend of mine  a card of this fashion it was to be expected.  She is anything but normal and it is the best. Even better than the card from her was the fact that there was a whole marketing team who decided this card was worth putting into production.  Next time they produce a card of this high quality, they should invest in a louder speaker!  To top of the fantastic Holiday card was the delivery date.  Postmarked before Thanksgiving, the card was delivered just yesterday.  Almost two months to go from the post office in town to the local mail center in town less than 1/2 mile away.  Cause nothing is ever normal.

For those who want normalcy, desire normally, and think they have normalcy, I say to you something is a little off with you.  NOTHING is ever normal as there is no standard of normal.  Normal is a normal as you make it.  If everything was normal life would be dull.  Given the choice between normal and something a little off, Plan473 will take something's a little off.  Having something little off makes for a great story!