This fellow appeared outside my window and is still there:

And Der Bingle was a Joe’s Crab Shack at Pacific Beach:

You have heard stories about people who have an accident and for a long time are in state of altered consciousness – or downright unconscious. And then, after the “wake up”, people tell them what has been going on. Well, I think I’ve fallen into a fugue. I hope someone is taking notes.

The roads were well-salted and dry all the way here, but then I’m talking about major roads. Gump Road in Fort Wayne was a long mile and a quarter, accessorized with mailboxes toppled over into roadway. A lot of snow in Kendallville and it looks as if it were splatted in places like fire extinguisher foam.

South of here, where the snow wasn’t as deep, it was intense. One lady told me, “We had five inches, but it moved around a lot.” Signs on Hwy 30 were still covered with frozen snow; it helped to be familiar with what they said. The police were evident on I-75, probably looking for ecstatic drivers, thinking, “I can see the road! I can see the road!” They found a couple, but I wasn’t one of them. I will probably get the salt mobile washed in the next couple of days. Actually, at times like this I love salt. If Lot’s wife were with me, I would tell her to look back and then crumble her up on my path. Oh, that was horrible. Sigh.

In truth, it was kind of nice down in the cozy apartment, all quiet with the remote all mine. I have now watched all of the Doc Martin episodes on Netflix. He’s an acquired taste. I gave George Gently a chance; Der Bingle likes him. He’s not bad, but there is something about his appearance than makes me wary – maybe he reminds me of someone.

We probably need a BBC-type police force here at the cafe, but I don’t think the regulars will let me be Chief Inspector. I know they wouldn’t let me have a siren and bubble light. Why am I fretting about this? I should just be Her Ladyship, AmeliaJake – just let me go stick an embroidered hankie inside my cuff for those “vapors” moments.

I am still in Fairborn at The Redoubt because the route back to Kendallville is a hazardous trek through counties with various levels of travel restriction levels. I suggested people send me pictures of the driveway, but they did not, so I am adhering to the adage that ignorance is bliss.

Shipshewana had 16-18″ of snow. Of course, that doesn’t include the drifts which were especially bad on East/West roads. The county road where the house is, is an old Indian trail running from Defiance, Ohio to White Pigeon, Michigan and it’s pretty much east to west.
Hwy 30 going into Fort Wayne is East/West and, oh, there were white-out conditions.

Here in Fairborn, we lucked out, getting rain and spitting snow, but then it stopped and the roads didn’t freeze – at least those that are covered with layers of salt. Everyone was prepared for the base to close on Monday, but there wasn’t even a delay. It looked as if I could just hop in the car and go home. Well, I could have hopped in the car and headed north, but more than likely, I would have wound up sitting in a fast food parking lot somewhere, waiting out the road clearing process.

So here I sit, all warm and cozy. Der Bingle, by the way is on the way to the airport to try to get to San Diego, BUT he is to change flights in Detroit and that ain’t good. Flights are being delayed and he may make it to Detroit and no farther. I honestly feel guilty about sitting here. He’s flown in bombers over enemy territory, and cargo planes across the Pacific and countless commercial flights for our family. And not only the flying, the dashing through airports, the long delays . . . Thank you, Der Bingle.