Prelude to a Party

Step 1. Collect the guests, blizzard or no. Conveniently, one guest had already arrived, being trapped in town and unable to make it home.

So far, this isn't as bad as the last blizzard. According to Damon's buddy, Doppy-ler Radar (as he used to call it), that condition may not last long.

Just Visiting Around Today

"Are you SURE you're on the road to Bismarck?" Jack asked today for the third time.

"Of COURSE I'm sure....well, pretty sure," I hesitantly replied. "There haven't been many signs." 

That alone was a bad sign. Others followed in quick succession. Upon turning on the compass (instead of the always-entertaining thermometer), it read "E" instead of "S". Then, a minute or two later, there was at last a highway sign, and sure enough it was Highway 2 instead of 83. A mere paltry difference of 81, but enough to get me in trouble.

And that is how I came to visit any number of little North Dakota towns that I might otherwise never have seen. Towner was the spot I turned around, and after looking up several options, found a shorter route than going all the way back through Minot. 

Keep in mind that not only was I supposed to have been there to pick up Jack two hours before my actual arrival, but we were racing against bad weather and the likelihood of another spring blizzard. Instead, I was touring Anamoose. Among other places.

The small, colorful town of Anamoose got its name back in the 1890's, during the building of the Soo Line Railroad. A dog wandered the area, catching the attention of the local Chippewa, who began calling the place Anamoose. In Chippewa, it simply means, "dog". Like many places around here, it became a booming town in the early 1900's, and has since tapered off rather dramatically in population, though not in community spirit.

You may wonder how I learned all that as I raced through, hair afire. Easy. I came home and looked it up on the internet.

Such a lot of beautiful scenery I saw today, and if I pretended hard enough, I could almost imagine it was on purpose.

Glad to be found,

Noni Beth

Hail the Conquering Heroes

About a half hour ago, the parade came through the main street of town. Two snowplows and a sheriff led the way, followed by numerous cars, pickups, and at least one semi. I didn't see the UPS guy, but I'm sure he was in there somewhere. John John was close to the front, clearly eager to get home.

I'm sure some of those motorists will still be stranded, but a much higher quality of stranded.

In the store, I met the music teacher. She had nobly volunteered to take in all the stranded out-of-town students, and was stocking up on ingredients to make a giant batch of spaghetti.

The blizzard continues, but with a smidge less fury, and the last hour ticks down on our warning.

All's well that ends well,
Noni Beth

A Brave Snowplow Driver

Blizzard Deja Vu...Only Worse

Always before, we have had plenty of warning. Today, as Tina sat home reading The Children's Blizzard, the storm struck.  

The weather forecasters are normally very accurate. Up here, lives depend on it. But as late as 7:30 this morning, we were only supposed to get some winds and a spritz of snow. Only a generic winter weather advisory was issued, and the roads were all open. The outside edge of the blizzard warning was almost 60 miles away. What happened caught us all by surprise.

Jack was supposed to go to Minot today, right in the heart of the blizzard. Being a good sport, since his supervisor really, really hoped he could make it, he tried. After about 30 miles, he gave up and came back. His next project was to twiddle his thumbs down at the shop while waiting to make sure John John made it back safely from the farm.

Before long, I got a call. "John John is stuck out on the highway. We're going to try and get him." Goody, I love being on standby as The Great Last Hope when everyone else has gotten stuck.

They had hardly made it past the just-put-up road closed signs before they had to turn around and come back, somewhat reassured by the news that John John had some food, beverages, and plenty of gas. Upon arrival back in town, the news grew even more dramatic. John John was one of 15 or so motorists trapped on the tardily closed road, including the UPS man.

The FedEx guy was more fortunate, having already arrived in Westby. He and the others stranded by the blizzard were given shelter in the community center, and provided with food. 

After several hours, a daring snowplow driver tried to break through, but got stuck at mile marker 12. 

The last I heard, the snowplow driver had finally broken loose, and was continuing on his rescue mission. No idea how many may have been rescued by this time, but John John is still stuck, trapped between two monster drifts, moving every ten minutes or so to avoid becoming a drift himself. The rest of us are eating pizza.

And Tina? She has decided it would have been much better to read her book in the summertime.

Without visibility,

Noni Beth

The Curse of the Prairie Royalty

If you have not already read Prairie Royalty, by Tina, you should do that first. Click here to read it. 

Monday came and went. No check. Tuesday came and went. No check. Wednesday came and went. No check.

Finally, I reached someone yesterday in the Review office. "Oh, yes," he said cheerfully. "Your check was returned to us by the post office, and we sent it out again to your new address."

It turned out that through some unknown quirk, my address hadn't been updated, even though my check came here fine last year. In an ironic cosmic response to my gloating, my check had made the tortuous journey to California and back.

Now that both Tina's and my addresses are completely correct and updated, next year we'll be back on the same footing again, unless one of us successfully bribes the postmistress, or maybe lets the air out of the tires of the one of us that lives farthest from the post office, too far to walk quickly. Or... I'd better not give away all my ideas yet.

Since her check had only 1/2 of Rahab, and mine had 1/2 of Rahab plus all of Malchus, it was larger than hers. Not huge - only two figures (four if you count the decimal places, ha ha), but enough to buy 7 sleds. Barely.

Gloating again,

Noni Beth

O Come, All Ye Faithful

Inspired by the hilarious recollections of several readers on the last thread, I have been inspired to rat out Mom, um, I mean share a special memory from my dear mother's childhood. I'm not certain how old she was, though I'm guessing early teens. Don't worry if I'm wrong - once she gets back from town and sees what I've done, she'll be sure to correct any errors.

It was nearing Christmas, back in those days of long ago. I'm pretty sure they didn't still put candles on the Christmas trees, but in hindsight, that might have been safer.

Mom and one of her childhood friends were rattling around the mission compound in Honolulu, trying to figure out something to do. What they finally lit upon (snort) was the fine plan of each lighting a candle, then marching in circles around the room, singing "O Come, All Ye Faithful".

I'm sure they thought they would sound very splendid, and they probably did. Right up until Mom's hair caught fire. 

The stately, familiar carol had never heard notes quite as high and piercing as emerged that day. It may not have heard them since. I am told that dolphins several miles off shore became inexplicably agitated, leaping and twisting as if trying to stay out of the water as long as possible.

Compared to that, the story of nursing class and the bunsen burner is quite tame. "Look, Ma, no bangs."

You'll be glad to hear that she did eventually stop lighting herself on fire. Most of you probably will, too.

Until the next conflagration,

Noni Beth