Sunday, February 3, 2019

Flushing Ice Cubes



Some call it the Polar Vortex. Others call it Snow-Ma-Gedden.  Whatever your choice, it’s definitely winter in West Michigan.  Single digit temperatures, wind chills below zero and more than a foot of snow have descended on the area since last week.  Who needs the groundhog? Winter is here and it appears to be sticking around for a while.

While at the gym this week, (yes, shoveling snow is hard work, but there’s something to be said for regular exercise) one of the guys mentioned that his seven-year-old daughter was enjoying the snow days. School would end up being closed all week.

“When she was in kindergarten, one of her teachers told her that if you want a snow day, you need to flush ice cubes down the toilet.”



 





 












I’d never heard of that practice and thought he was yanking my chain.

“It’s true. She tried it a couple of times.”

“You tell her she can stop now?” I asked.

He grinned. “I accused her of still doing it. She just laughs, swears it’s not her.”

Not sure whether I believed him or not. But the idea of flushing ice cubs kept me laughing all 
morning.

So, what kind of weather influencing rituals do you know?



Excerpt from Fleeing Beauty: In this scene, Jamie has been trying to learn more about her late father while also working to figure out how someone stole part of his art collection.  That’s when she bumps into the enigmatic Harrison Mundy.


Walking out of the courthouse, I paused to enjoy the late August sunshine. There was a small grassy area between the building and the parking lot, with a couple of wrought iron benches. I stepped over to one and sat down. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back. I thought about Dante Barolo and the stories he’d told. Every step brought me a little closer to my late father. Too many years had gone by. It felt strange to miss him.
“May I join you on this beautiful afternoon?” a deep cultured voice asked.
My eyes snapped open. I recognized that voice.
“It’s been a long time, Mr. Mundy.” I gestured at the bench.
He settled beside me, taking a moment to pluck at the crease of his trousers. “You look well, Jamie. I thought we agreed to dispense with formalities.”
“Sorry, Harry. It slipped my mind over the last couple of months.”
“No reason to apologize.”
“So how did you know I’d be here? I’m not a believer in coincidence.”
The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Neither am I. But I thought it was prudent that we meet. I have given your situation a great deal of consideration.”
“So you figured out how someone stole part of the collection?”
Harrison Mundy was sitting erect on the bench, his hands resting on his knees. He raised the index finger of his right hand and swept it back and forth like a metronome.
“As I said, a great deal of consideration. I sense that something will occur soon.”
“But you’re not prepared to tell me who, or how, or when, are you?”
He turned to me and flashed another dazzling smile. He and Barolo could do billboards for a dentist. “I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request.”
“So all you’re willing to say is something may happen soon.”
“Precisely.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a frustrating man to talk with, Harry?”
“Frequently.”
Effortlessly he rose from the bench. As I scrambled to my feet, he lightly took my hand and raised it, brushing his lips across my knuckles. The gesture was so unexpected I didn’t know what to say. Then he winked at me and turned away. A dark green Jaguar sedan pulled up beside to the curb. His exotic companion, Jocelyn, was behind the wheel. Harrison Mundy reached the passenger door and turned back.
“Please give my regards to Miss Davis.”
“Of course, Harry.”
And as quickly as he’d appeared, he vanished.
What the hell was that all about?
Soon.
What the hell kind of help was that?



  To continue with the Flushing Ice Cubes, here's how a Michigan School announced it was closing this week.  Nice job guys!

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