Last week’s monsoon-style storm, which brought us spotty showers – no, the showers didn’t have spots on them, though my shower door has some soapy spots and the showers were spotty in some spots… but I digress – was a welcome relief from all this dang drought, but several hours of unrelenting rain, lightning and thunder is not only nerve-rattling but it also delayed my evening shower (here we go again). Hey, who wants to get fried while taking a shower? Not a pretty picture, especially when I was ready to jump into bed with my “baby.”
“Listen to me baby, you got to understand, you’re old enough to know the makings of a man. Listen to me baby, it’d hard to settle down, am I asking too much for you to stick around. When I see lips beggin’ to kiss, stop, I can’t stop, I can’t stop myself. Lightning is striking again, lightning is striking again and again and again and again.” (“Lightning Strikes” – Lou Christy – 1963)
Not only that but, while watching Colbert, the screen pixilated and sound crackled every time there was a flash and boom outside. Adding insult to injury, I had to reset every dang TV and clock in the house. If Edison had buried all of their dang (boy, I sure say “dang” a lot.) powerlines, like they do in many Southland communities, this probably wouldn’t have happened… but I digress.
When I was a little boy back in the OC, we used to get scads of summertime thunderstorms and I reveled in them with my nose pressed against the window, waiting for the next flash, not realizing my nose could get fried… again, not a pretty picture. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a rather prominent proboscis. It’s what you might call a “Roman” nose… yeah, like it’s roamin’ all over my face. By the way, did you know that, if your nose runs and your feet smell, you might be built upside-down?… again, I digress.
When me and the Missus moved up here back in’76, we were having a birthday party for one of our boys and the neighbor kids who were riding their bikes around behind the house, when, and all of a sudden, Flash, Crackle, Boom! Needless to say, the party continued inside… when will all this digressing end?
Then there was the time I was scaling Mt. San Gorgonio with a group from Mill Creek Boys Ranch in the summer of ’59, when our journey was interrupted by… guess what? Okay, you with your hand up, Wrong! It wasn’t snowing, for Pete’s sake, it was yet another thunderstorm and none of us wanted to get fried… not a pretty picture… “Stop digressing!” Rhea shouted. But the doozy of all thunderstorms happed back in 2003 during the 100th anniversary celebration of the Rim of the World Highway and all the politicians and dignitaries got soaked. Okay, I’m done digressing now.
“Lightning is striking again and again and again and again.”
Keep it flyin’, Uncle Mott