Good morning, drivers… prepare for inclement weather!
We’ve got rain and fog on the docket, and those rumors of snow are still going around. The fog is fairly thick, too: I’d put it at a very solid “moderate” rating, maybe even hovering near “heavy.” Now, the fog is thickest above 4,000 feet… at that point in the descent, you’ll still find it a hindrance, down to around 3,000 feet/ Upper Waterman Canyon Road’s exit. It’s all clear from there on down.
The rain is enough to keep your windshield wipers busy… none of this 10-second-delay crap is going to cut it today.
I did not see rocks (added update, 9:30 AM: I have received reports that there ARE rocks falling all over the roads… exercise caution!) and windspeeds appear to hover near zero MPH. It’s not cold enough for snow just yet… BUT, on the radio, they keep talking about a decent chance of snow tonight “at the higher elevations.” I don’t know what “higher elevations” means to people from L.A., though, given that this is sort of a relative thing. For example, a few years ago, I lived at the post called Fort Riley, on the plains of Kansas. Just off post, there was a slight, mild rise in the earth, almost a mound, maybe even an actual “rolling hill,” but no more than 50 feet above the plain’s plain ol’ plane, Jane. At the top of this hill was an array of flashing red aviation lights, to warn pilots of the threat to their flight paths… this was “high elevation” to Kansas people. The freakin’ Kansas Alps.
So, I don’t know what the L.A. radio forecasters mean… to them, “higher elevations” might mean anything in or above Beverly Hills (the Los Angeles Alps), or it might mean that the peaks of our mountain trinity (Baldy, San Jack, and San Gorgonio) might get a topping of snow. I doubt that we need to worry about chains… buuuuuuut… never say never. Stranger things have happened.
Speaking of stranger things, there’s a show coming to Netflix that’s being compared to the hit, “Stranger Things.” Previews seem to indicate that the show’s premise centers around a group of kids and some sort of alien invasion. The new show is called, “Rim of the World,” and while I’ve been unable to dig up a lot of info, the trailer offered on Netflix certainly seems to indicate a lot of local filming (to clarify, I mean local to our mountains, not local to some other place). The show is currently scheduled for release on May 24, but trailers are available now. Keep an eye out for this thing.
I love pears. Unfortunately, they seem to have a very small window of ripeness. When purchased at the grocery store, pears are typically not even close to ripe: they’re very firm—hard, even—and green. I get it: they travel better, they don’t bruise or crush as easily as riper ones would. The idea is to take them home, and wait for them to ripen… you damn sure don’t want to eat one too early, because that’s like eating a wooden apple, only not as tender and tasty. On the other hand, however, you also don’t want to eat one that’s TOO ripe… those can be mushy, mealy, even dry.
Most fruits have a big window of edibility: bananas, apples, oranges… there’s typically a solid week that the window is wide open for consuming a fruit that’s not too green, tart, or firm, and hasn’t gotten soft, brown, or moldy yet.
But for pears, the window of edibility is very small, and it’ll slam shut on your fingers if you are not vigilant. Today, though, I hope to nail it: I’ve had my eye on a certain pear for nearly 10 days now… I’ve practically watched it grow up. At 10:45 AM, I expect it to reach perfect ripeness. My appetite is being primed right now, and I have peanut butter on standby, to compliment the fine fruit. I’ll probably need to rush it a little once the clock strikes, in spite of the temptation to take it slow and savor the delicacy. I figure that by 10:50 AM, if I have not finished consumption, the thing will be a dried up ol’ has-been. It’ll be the Alyssa Milano of fruit, just smarter, and not as consumed with becoming relevant again.
California’s Early Release Program has its problems… among them, a crime rate that is going through the roof, thanks to the influx of criminals who are simply being let go, after serving only fractions of their prison terms. Turns out, English teachers are mad, too: They don’t like sentence fragments. They really don’t.
Oh, dang… so let’s talk timeshare presentations. I tried it… ONCE. It was hawked as a great opportunity, and hey: FREE STUFF!!! And sure, I got some goodies, like a $50 Visa gift card, and a FREE, all-expenses paid trip to Vegas. Only, in order to get the free trip, there were SOME fees, to the tune of about $500, and the trip could ONLY be taken during the middle of the week (no freakin’ WEEKENDS, Silly Goose!), with additional blackout dates also in effect, and I would have to fly one particular airline (and pay the significant taxes and fees) and stay at one particular hotel (and pay the significant taxes and fees), and provide my own transportation (full price, plus significant taxes and fees, I’m sure) while there. I declined the “free” trip, since I can go to Vegas any time I want, for 1/20 of the cost of their definition of “free!” Only, declining this trip cost me around eight years of follow-up phone calls, reminding me to sign up, hounding me, demanding that I take the free. F’ng. Trip. Seriously… for eight years, the calls were regular… they even got my work phone number, somehow, and hounded me there.
Point being: Ain’t no way in hell, OR on God’s green Earth, that I will ever attend another timeshare presentation. I would rather gouge out my own eyes with a dull melon baller… or chew off my own leg. Or consume a live sea slug… though my nose. Or shave my face using a cheese grater. Or set my own pants on fire, and call mySELF a liar. Or eat a banana sideways. Or put a rattlesnake under my pillow at bedtime. Or clean my ears out with a ½” drill bit. Or visit the DMV every day for a week… HA! Okay, I’m kidding there… I guess exaggeration got the best of me. But, you get the idea. No more timeshare presentations for me.
Oh, one final word of the big “prize” offered by “TLC:” I read some reviews online, from victims who thought they HAD actually won something. They paid a lot of money for their “prize,” and, of course, had to sit through a timeshare presentation. Only after enduring that presentation was the prize of a “VIP tour” of the Pawn Stars shop awarded… and it was the same as any regular ol’ visit to the store. No meet-and-greet, no behind-the-scenes fun, no test driving the vehicles, no BBQing with Rick and Big Hoss, no cruising around with Chumlee, or haggling with the Old Man… “winners” simply got to go visit the store, just like every other one of the seven billion occupants of Earth is eligible to do, 24 hours per day, seven days per week. Just walk on through the front door.
Throttle through Thursday… Friday finally follows. And watch for snow in the Alps.