I have no idea what has come over me; I am not talking like myself. In fact, that “here” in the title? Well, I heard my mind pronounce it “cheer”. Yes, you can bet your bottom dollar on that one, Bob, or Boob, or whoever you are.

This wet March snow is already slush on the roads because the temperature has been right around 31 for most of the day. BUT, that old thermometer is agoin’ to start fallin right down to -5. Woo-Hoo. Oh, I believe the Woo-Hoo is a flashback to the normal AmeliaJake. Ignoring that, however, I’m going to keep on typing and tell you that after it hits -5, it is going to start back up again and will reach 27 sometime tomorrow. Ain’t that a hoot? No, of course it isn’t and Rose just slapped me across the face. I believe I needed it; she says it doesn’t matter what I believed, it’s what she knew. That’s my Rosie.

SLAP

Ah, yes, this weather apparently brought out some deep part of me and as Rose says, “Beware the Ids of March.”

SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP

Okay, just wrap me up in a comforter and we’ll pretend it’s a straitjacket.

I took Alison to work this morning in the beginning hours of our March snowstorm. Such a simple little sentence. Here’s another one: When I pulled in for gas, the wind had flung so much icee-type snow on the pump, I had to claw it off with my hand to find the place to put my card. Then I hunched down below the level of the car as I pumped the gas, making certain to keep my back to the wind. I turned into the wind once and my hood filled with air like John Candy’s pants on the mast in “Summer Rental” – well, maybe it’s the wrong season for that visual. But the gist is – it was impressive.

However, as I was sharing the experience with Der Bingle on the phone, I became aware of the hard truth of that old cliche – You had to be there.