Talk of the Town Ernie Anderson
The shoes make the man. Or something.
So, during the slop storm last week, as unflavored Slush Puppie grossness fell from the skies all !!#@$! day, I found myself out trying to scrape my driveway at 2 in the morning. It was going great: The slush was pretty easy to move inasmuch as it was 80 percent water. But just five minutes into the wee hour operation, I found that my feet were already soaking wet and it felt like I might lose some toes. What the deuce was the matter with my boots, anyway? Waterproofing doesn’t work after midnight? But that right there was the very problem. I wasn’t wearing my boots at all; I had come outside in my slippers which, believe it or not, are not waterproof. The result was that by the time I got back inside, my feet looked like oatmeal. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I are smart.
Shudder speed
Stud photographer Russ Dillingham employed more photo wizardry early in the week by presenting a photo from downtown Lewiston in which the headlights of passing vehicles appeared frozen in space. I don’t know if it’s a shutter speed setting that does that kind of thing or if Russ has been dabbling in the black arts to summon great photo powers from a malignant abyss beyond space and time. Someday soon, I reckon, he’ll utilize some telepathic filter or whatnot to take photos of people with their very thoughts exposed in the air for all to see. At which point I’ll start avidly avoiding him.
Boil some water, stat!
Some weird confusion this week over a “boil water” alert issued in Lewiston. The confusing part is that the alert was in effect in Lewiston, Idaho, not here. Weird stuff. I’m just glad that nobody went into labor in my general area during the confusion. Because that’s what you do when someone is about to deliver a baby, right? Boil water? Send the menfolk into an adjacent room to pace and smoke? I won’t lie to you. I’ve been watching a lot of “Call the Midwives.”
I don’t need no stinking basket
Saw a dude at THE Hannaford the other day who had so many groceries piled in his arms, I expected he would topple at any moment as he moved through the store and three or four shoppers would probably be buried in the avalanche. I mean, this guy looked like the Grinch hauling all the loot out of Whoville. As he walked toward the checkout lanes, the items at the top of his pile swayed precariously, but by gum, he made it to the checkout without losing a single thing. For those of us who chronically forget to bring bags into the store, it was a moment of awe. I, on the other hand, had four items and managed to drop two of them.
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