"weather-drew" (noun):
A nickname used by a systems administrator, web developer and network engineer living in Oklahoma, working in the weather industry. He does not make donuts.
Previous Blog Entries:
- The Things We Do For Dogs (To Dogs?)
- Dreamworks + Ghost in the Shell
- The Ice Storm
- Beef Ribs, The Triumph
- Laughing Man Hacks You
- Gary Get's National
- SimCity 5 - Societies
- Digital Atmosphere
- New Friends, Old Friends
- Classic Super Cell Anyone?
- (Show More Archives...)
Murky Waters To Go
You have to love the quiet, small town atmosphere Norman, Oklahoma brings you. When the loudest sound heard in tens of miles turns out to be the 5:15pm train on it's journey toward Dallas, it's safe to say you've arrived at the slower pace of Great Plains living.
But as I sit here in Dallas, Texas I can assure that there is no shortage of noise. There is no shortage of traffic, tall buildings and brilliant vibes. And with that comes no shortage of inspiration to write, read and even learn - which is after all the reason I've driven my rain soaked 1993 Honda Accord down here in the first place (more on the 'soaked' part of that in a little bit).
I enjoy the city each time I come here. Usually, I end up staying in the northern urban area known at Addison (which was once a suburb itself, but has been engrossed in the growing Dallas Metroplex). Addison is an interesting place as I see it - a buzzing commercial center housing the national headquarters for Pizza Hut, CompUSA and Mary Key Cosmetics.
All organizations we can't live without.
But let's leave this depressing conversation about things I "could live without" and move onto the wonderful journey here, which in this tale begins 148 miles North - in Norman, Oklahoma on a rainy Saturday night.
Nicki and I had decided to relax for most of the night thanks to a rigorous day of electric fence installation and shuttling her 3 year old Husky back and forth across town. One element of the day had wound down but another, in the form of a massive rainstorm - was making it's way into Oklahoma late that evening. In total, Norman would clock over 2.5 inches of precipitation - and you guessed it - in the wonderful late March liquid form of rain.
Nicki and I remained indoors as the evening progressed, engrossing ourselves in DVD's and the occasional glance at radar (hoping for severe weather). But as the night unfolded, we only received an occasional surprise of thunder and lightning. Severe weather, it turned out - would have to wait.
So, you ask? What wouldn't have to wait?
Sunday morning I woke up around 7:00am and was, as dogs often make us do, obligated to take "Casey" out immediately for a walk. We would leap and bound thru massive puddles in what could only be described as:
"The Second Coming of Noah".
But it wasn't the second coming of Noah, just a long awaited and desperately needed rainstorm. And to be exact once again, almost 2.5 inches of long awaited rainstorm. A parched Earth will one day reclaim it's ability to produce life - and it had turned out Norman, Oklahoma had reclaimed that long winter drought in one 6 hour period.
As the day progressed, Nicki helped me pack several items I had been selling on eBay - ridding my living room of quite a bit of crap. Trouble was, I would have to drive to Texas and ship these items while in training since the auctions I had scheduled did not end until 5:00pm that day.
As I walked my bags and boxes together out to the car, I peered into the distant silver haze of my Honda and looked toward the back window, which seemed surprisingly foggy for a sunny day. With each step I took closer to the car, detail after detail began to unravel right before my eyes. I stopped dead in my tracks upon arriving at the drivers side door:
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I mumbled.
The condensation built up on the glass was a result of the Sun evaporating the pool of water present on my floorboard (they call it evapotransportation). As if it had decided to become some sort of rain gauge on wheels, my vehicle had managed to capture every bit of the 2.5 inches of rainfall from the previous night. This, logically would then be attributed to the fact I had left the sunroof and both windows fully opened for the last 12 hours.
I ran back inside to grab towels and rags to begin drying off the soggy mess I called a dashboard. Water had pooled in such quantity and in coverage that towels merely helped drip the water onto the sidewalk, and all over my genes.
I finally managed to dry off the interior enough to get in and pull it closer to the front door of my apartment. With the keys in the ignition and heat turned up to "Full", I proceeded to warm my vehicle's interior to over 100F and help dry out some of the surfaces. It would be a futile effort however; and the seats and carpet would keep their newly found friend Mr. Moisture to themselves, reluctant to let go of one single drop of water.
The drive to Dallas would be accomplished using trash bags duct-taped to my seat and lots of paper towels. What little pride I had would have to be swallowed; I would drive to one of the largest cities in the world looking like a member of the Clampett family.
It's been three days. There has been no significant change in the dampness. But what has changed is the new and wonderfully overpowering smell of moldy cheese.
Since I can't begin to tell you how bad this is, you will have to experience it for yourself. Just follow these directions:
- Discard every pair of socks you own.
- Don't wash your feet for 6 months.
- Travel to the Southernmost tip of Alabama in July.
- At Noon, place a pair of leather shoes over your feet.
- Take a 4 hour run anywhere you like (you should by this point be wanting to run as far away from the city of Mobile as possible).
- Remove your shoes.
- Pull your foot up to your nose and breathe in heavily.
- Vomit (violently).
But cleaning mold will have to wait. I have a crucial exam approaching and I don't want to take it twice. Red Hat certification has been a long standing goal of mine for several years now - thankfully I'm days away from the first in a series of steps I hope will make my life easier.
Perhaps one day, easy enough to afford a new car everytime I leave the roof open during a rainstorm.