Hula-gen Family Fun Fact #27

The biggest snowfall in Chicago’s history to date was 23 inches in January 1967. And Hula was there!


When I was but a wee lass we lived just outside of Joliet while daddy worked at an arsenal. That’s until mama got her fill of winter weather and said, “Move me back south.” To which I say, “Hallelujah!”

Out Back

Winter may be kicking us around, but there are still signs of life in nature. If you look closely.

Dear Mother Nature,

Send sun.

Please?

A White Christms

For maybe the third or fourth time in my life we had a white Christmas around these parts. It's something that happens every ten or fifteen years here. And while I am normally not fond of ANY kind of winter weather, I have to grudgingly admit it was beautiful. It didn't hurt that we spent the morning in the somewhat isolated countryside at my brother in law's house.

Game On, Phil! Game On!

Once again, we awoke to another big fat snow. Well, maybe not big and fat to people in Michigan or North Dakota, but big and fat to us. Another three inches of El Nino’s wet, gloppy sense of humor. It was beautiful, I’ll give it that, but I’m over the snow now. It can stop any time. It may be pretty, but one of the reasons I live in this part of the country, aside from family and my job, is because our winters are somewhat mild. We’re used to Snow Light around here. One good snow of about two or three inches a season, just enough to boost the bread and milk industries, and we’re done until the next year. We like it that way.

Jiminy Cricket! We’ve had three really good snows in the last couple of weeks, and we may not be done. While I’m not superstitious, I have found that the Farmer’s Almanac is usually pretty good at predicting our weather. Hubby’s been telling me for weeks that the Almanac is forecasting snow for us throughout February and March. I let it go in one ear and out the other until Sunday night when I saw the local meteorologists predicting snow AGAIN and finally ran to the bathroom to dig out the Almanac and read it for myself (because I’m stubborn that way). There it was in black and white, just as plain as could be. Snow, snow, snow for the next several weeks. And to add insult to injury, that stinkin’ groundhog, whose name I refuse to say, saw his shadow. Now, why didn’t they just leave him in his hole and give a little hope to all of us summer babies? After all, ignorance is comfortable.

I’ve always thought he was cute, but not any more. I’m done with that groundhog. If six more weeks of winter weather is the best he can do, I’m all for takin’ him out. It’s over dude. We’re breakin' up, and I’m keepin’ the ring. Don’t come to Kentucky unless you’re willin’ to run. Not only do we not do snow around here, we all pack heat. We like it that way.

Thank Goodness for Under Armor

Our temperatures were in the single digits this weekend, with wind chills at the bottom of the thermometer. It was cold enough to stick your tongue to a flag pole. If you were so inclined. I was not. In fact, I wasn’t in the mood to do much of anything this past weekend. I just wanted to huddle inside in front of the fireplace with Ford County and let John Grisham amuse me between bowls of homemade soup. However, the light layer of snow kept teasing me with its glistening little wisps, fluttering around the yard and gleaming in the sun like Hollywood made for movie snow, all the time whispering, “Wienie”. Sometimes we get only one snow a winter, and even though it was butt freezing cold, I was afraid I’d miss my only opportunity this year for snow pictures, so I pulled on three layers, a hat, gloves and boots and headed for the door with my camera. And my cell phone in case I fell in a wet ditch and needed someone to pull me out before my core body temperature dropped to sixty degrees.

I’m sometimes jealous of folks like A New England Life, who seem to be surrounded by photogenic scenery such as bridges and gristmills that lend themselves to beautiful snow covered landscapes. We just don’t get that kind of snow around here, and this is farm country, so historic buildings are rare in my neighborhood. However, this is a beautiful part of the country, and I like sharing it with you. That way if you never get to Kentucky you’ll know that there’s more to us than the stereotypes you see in the movies and that one tornado victim with no teeth the reporters always find for national news stories. This, my dear readers, is my community in January’s frosty squeeze.

The Snow is Falling! The Snow is Falling!

It’s supposed to snow here tonight, 2-4 inches. In Minnesota or New Hampshire they call that a nuisance snow. Here we call it- HOLYMOTHEROFMABELTHEWORLDISCOMING TOANENDHEADFORTHEBUNKERS!! While our winters are kind of a crazy mix of sun, clouds and rain, they’re mostly just chilly with one or two bone chilling spells. Occasionally, we even get some mild temperatures. It’s just one big mixed up ball of wax that plays havoc with everyone’s sinuses for four months. We don’t get much snow. In fact, it usually snows just once or twice a season. Sometimes not at all. Which means we don’t handle snow very well. We’re not as bad as my friends in Alabama and Mississippi who drive in a ditch if a flake hits the road, God bless them, but we’re pretty darn close. It takes only a little snow to have us sliding off the roads like penguins on a glacier, but our panic starts well before the first snow hits the ground. As soon as the weather man starts predicting snow, we act like Chicken Little and start stocking up on food, cigarettes and beer.

Granted, we’re all a little shell shocked from last year’s ice storm and three week power outage. The occasional flicker of the lights makes us wince and worry. In fact, one of my neighbors fired up his generator during a short power outage recently “just in case”.

We don’t want to get caught with our pants down. EVER. AGAIN. And we don’t want to be without the necessary provisions, but this panic is nothing new. The two days before any snowfall will find every Western Kentuckian in the grocery store buying bread, milk and eggs. While we may pick up a few other items, we mostly buy bread, milk and eggs. It’s not that we adhere to the theory that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It’s just what we buy. We don’t know why. We just do it. I’ve asked people to explain it to me, but they can’t. Our mothers did it. Their mothers did it. (Their grandmothers just went out back and reached under a chicken, but that’s another post.) It’s just tradition that no one questions.

The shelves at the local Wal-marts and Kroger’s are picked clean of those items right now. A friend of mine went to Wal-mart last night, and the only thing left in the giant egg case was four cartons of organic eggs. I’d show you a picture of the empty shelves, but that would require a trip to the store, and I’m trying to avoid that zoo at all costs. Besides, store management gets a little nervous when you drag a big Nikon in there to photograph the bread looting.

I’m not worried. The Hula-gen’s keep a well stocked pantry because we cook most of our meals at home. I have a freezer full of beef, corn on the cob, school fundraiser cookie dough and half eaten ice cream. We have half a loaf of wheat bread which should last us until Saturday, unless we get on some kind of crazy toast kick. And we sometimes go for two or three days at a time without cracking open our milk jug. (Which might account for the osteopenia developing in my left hip.) I think we’ll be fine, but if we get desperate we have those fifteen jars of tomatoes I canned this summer.

I’m no fan of winter, but I am looking forward to taking a few pictures of the snow tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m going to hunker down in my nice warm house and wait for the mayhem to get really wound up tomorrow morning. Sunrise should bring some school closings even if we get only a couple of inches of snow, but maybe not for Teen Angel’s school district. Their superintendent used to live in northern Indiana.

Ready, Set......

Whew! We escaped the first round of snow with nary a flurry. However, the second round has moved in, and there are plenty of flakes in the air. See.

The forecast says up to six inches, but I’m hoping for no more than three. This stuff isn’t supposed to end until early tomorrow morning, so I won’t have any idea what I’m dealing with until I wake up in the morning. I’ll be doing the dance of joy if this system slides north and we get little accumulation. One thing’s for sure, the wind is a killer right now, and it needs to die down significantly in the next twelve hours or it could be a real problem. I’m planning for the worst and hoping for the best.

Ear band-check
Sock cap-check
Vaseline to protect and warm face-check
Chap stick-check
Neck gaiter-check
Under Armor, top and bottoms-check
Dry weave shirt-check
Wind pants-check
Wind jacket-check
Gloves-check
Hand warmers-check
Thin socks-check
Thick socks-check
Plastic bags to layer between socks-check
Extra socks-check
Trail shoes-check
Duct tape to insulate and waterproof trail shoes-check
Racing bib-pick up before 5:30am
Energy gels-check
Bananas-check ($1.39 a pound today!)
Smart Water-Hubby is picking up
Bag of dry, clean clothes-check
Fanny pack-check
Mental health evaluation-postponed