I was under the weather yesterday, and honestly, I’m still not quite up to par today. As a result, I didn’t get much done in the garage. I’m not sure if my illness was related to the weather or not, but it rained here most of the day. Whatever the cause, I simply didn’t feel like doing much of anything.
The heaviest rainfall came around 4:00 yesterday afternoon. My daughter was on her way home from work. Normally, her commute takes about 50 minutes, but with the rain, it took much longer.
We use an app on our phones that shares family locations. One feature I both appreciate and dread is that it alerts us when there’s a sudden stop along the way. Usually, that means someone has stopped for gas or coffee. Unfortunately, your mind always jumps to less pleasant possibilities.
My daughter had been talking to my wife through her car’s hands-free system, but decided to hang up so she could concentrate on the road conditions. A few minutes later, her boyfriend called to check on her. While talking with him, she hit a section of roadway that was partially covered in water.
The next thing she knew, her car was hydroplaning. She spun several 360-degree turns before crashing into the center guardrail.
As you can tell from the pictures, her car is pretty torn up. The front, rear, and right side all have extensive damage. If the insurance company doesn’t total it, I’ll be shocked.
Thankfully, my daughter is okay. She has some bruising on her left hand, which we think happened when she instinctively braced for impact. Surprisingly, the airbags never deployed.
Now comes the fun part—dealing with the insurance company. Since she doesn’t have rental car coverage, she’ll be without a vehicle for a while. My wife has already volunteered her car so our daughter can continue getting to work until the insurance company decides whether the car will be repaired or replaced.
That leaves my wife and me sharing one vehicle. With both of us having doctor appointments and other obligations, there’s going to be quite a bit of scheduling gymnastics in the coming weeks.
Still, the important thing is that my daughter walked away from the accident. Cars can be repaired or replaced. People can’t.
There will be inconveniences, sacrifices, and more than a little juggling of schedules, but that’s what parents do. No matter how old our children get, when they need help, we step in and do whatever we can to make sure they have what they need.
There’s a tropical depression near Galveston, Texas, and it’s wreaking havoc on the weather forecasts in my area. Today marks the second day this week that rain was predicted, yet the sun has been shining nearly all day. That’s also two days this week that I could have gone fishing.
Instead, I spent most of my day in the garage.
I managed to clean off one of my workbenches and rearrange the battery chargers for my power tools. It may not sound like much, but in a garage-cleaning project, that qualifies as significant progress.
Then there was the plastic storage tub.
This particular tub is full of 32 years’ worth of items that came from my office when I retired in 2018. Apparently, when I retired, I decided that Future Tim would sort through it someday. Well, Future Tim finally showed up.
I spent some time going through the contents, throwing away things that clearly needed to be trashed and even a few things that I wanted to keep but realistically didn’t need anymore. Unfortunately, the tub is still just as full as when I started. It’s going to require a dedicated day of sorting, organizing, and deciding which memories deserve valuable storage space.
I didn’t want to spend that much time on it today because I’ve got plenty of other cleaning to do. The tub will still be there when I’m finished.
Actually, now that I think about it, that’s probably how we got into this mess in the first place.
Today was trash day, and the city came by and emptied our garbage can. I’m glad they did because I was officially out of room. Based on the rate I’m going, I’m fairly certain I’ll have it filled back up by tomorrow afternoon.
I’m slowly making progress. Nobody else may be able to see it yet, but I can.
I also found some storage bins that attach to a pegboard above one of my workbenches. I bought them quite a while back with the intention of organizing small hobby items like key rings, hooks, picture hangers, and other odds and ends.
There was just one problem.
The holes in my pegboard are too small.
So tomorrow’s project will involve a power drill and a drill bit as I enlarge every hole needed to mount those bins. Once they’re installed, they should free up a fair amount of space in my toolbox.
As if that weren’t enough excitement, I’ve also discovered that I apparently own enough sanding disks to open a small sanding-disk dealership. Much like my tape measures, they seem to be scattered throughout the garage in random locations.
To solve that problem, I found a file online and started printing a storage box with my 3D printer to organize them. The printer has come in handy several times for projects around the house, and this looks like another one of those occasions.
I’m also finding drill bits everywhere. Different sizes. Different styles. Some I remember buying. Others appear to have materialized out of thin air. For now, they’re all going into a temporary storage bin until I can sort through them properly.
So far, this garage-cleaning adventure has been surprisingly interesting. I keep finding things I bought years ago and never used. Some of them I had completely forgotten I owned.
At this point, cleaning the garage feels less like housework and more like a treasure hunt.
It’s kind of like Christmas in June—except all the gifts are things I bought myself and forgot about years ago.
For the past couple of years, my son has taken it upon himself to grill steaks, hamburgers, and hot dogs for lunch after church on the Sunday before Memorial Day. Today was no exception—except for one small flaw. It rained the entire time.
That meant no standing over the grill, no smell of charcoal drifting through the yard, and no pretending we were all professional pitmasters for the afternoon. Instead, he improvised. The hamburger patties were fried indoors, the hot dogs were broiled, and even the corn on the cob ended up under the broiler.
No matter. He still did a good job.
My wife made brownies and cut up the watermelon she had brought. My daughters made a special dip that disappeared almost as quickly as it hit the table. There was food everywhere, and thankfully, there was more than enough for everyone.
My son invited his girlfriend over, and one of my daughters brought her boyfriend. My other daughter’s boyfriend had a prior church commitment and couldn’t make it this time.
This gathering was also the first time we had been back to my son’s house since the water leak. The contractors did an excellent job rebuilding the damaged walls and replacing the flooring. Honestly, it looked like nothing had ever happened—which is exactly what you hope for after a project like that.
It was also the first time my son had met my other daughter’s boyfriend. As a father, you quietly watch those moments. You wonder how everybody will get along, whether the conversations will flow naturally, and if things might feel awkward.
But everything seemed easy and comfortable. Everybody laughed. Conversations bounced around the room. People drifted from the kitchen to the living room and back again. It simply felt like family.
At one point, I caught myself sitting quietly and just listening.
I admired how much my family has changed in what feels like such a short amount of time. One minute, there were no boyfriends or girlfriends around the table. Now, one relationship is likely headed toward engagement, and another is already hinting in the same direction.
Life changes slowly enough that you hardly notice it day by day. Then suddenly, during an ordinary rainy Sunday lunch before Memorial Day, it hits you all at once.
The kids aren’t kids anymore. Families grow. New people find their place at the table. Traditions continue, even when the weather doesn’t cooperate.
And honestly, I wouldn’t have changed a thing about the day.
I attend two men’s Bible studies each week — one on Tuesday mornings and one on Saturday mornings. The reason I bring this up is that at the Saturday group, several of the men are guys I’ve known for years. At one point or another, many of them were leaders in the Boy Scouts. Since announcing my “retirement” from Scouting, we’ve spent a lot of time after Bible study swapping stories and memories from those years.
Today was no exception.
And like most Scout stories, this one involves weather, questionable decisions, and lessons learned the hard way.
For years, our boys attended the same summer camp. It was a good camp, but after a while, the older boys got tired of earning the same merit badges year after year. There are only so many times you can get excited about tying the same knots before you start questioning your sanity.
So our troop decided to do something different — we planned our own week-long summer camp with a wider variety of merit badge opportunities.
The location we chose was Raccoon Mountain, just over the Tennessee state line, about 2.5 hours away. This trip took months of planning. We had to make sure the boys had fun while earning badges they couldn’t get at regular camp. Finding qualified instructors was probably the hardest part. That meant reaching out to other troops in the area and politely begging adults to come teach teenagers skills in the middle of the woods in the summer.
When we arrived, I met with the camp ranger. She placed us away from the other RV campers so we’d have privacy and not disturb anyone. While setting up, I noticed a large dry creek bed off to the side. The tent spots were level, but the whole camping area sat on a hill.
At the time, I thought, “Nice view.”
Later, I thought, “Well… that was dumb.”
We arrived midday, giving the sixteen boys time to set up the dining area, pitch tents, and start preparing dinner. After the meal, the KP crew cleaned dishes while the rest of the boys relaxed. The adult leaders met to finalize plans for our first full day.
Everything was going perfectly… until the camp ranger interrupted us.
A severe thunderstorm watch had been issued for later that night into the early morning. As Scoutmaster, weather monitoring was one of my responsibilities. Up until the day we left, the forecast called for only a brief early-morning shower. I had checked again before departure — no change.
This was back when weather apps were more “suggestions” than “accurate predictions.”
One of our camp rules was no electronics. Devices stayed in the vans once we arrived. This was before smartphones took over, but we still had gaming systems and MP3 players to worry about. This was to give the boys the complete outdoor experience.
I did bring two devices — my work phone and my BlackBerry. The work phone had limited internet (and technically wasn’t for personal use), and the BlackBerry had radar, though the signal was spotty enough that sometimes I think it was just guessing.
Radar showed two wide storm lines heading straight for us. By our calculations, the first would arrive around 2 a.m. After our meeting, I had the boys secure anything that could blow away or get soaked.
Most adults were staying in travel trailers, but I made sure several leaders stayed in tents with me for safety.
Around 1:30 a.m., thunder woke me. Lightning flickered in the distance. As I crawled out to check things, I ran into another leader doing the same thing. Always comforting when someone else is thinking the same way you are — or at least equally nervous.
While checking the camp, John called my name. He had spotted a toad hopping quickly uphill.
I asked if maybe that toad knew something we didn’t.
Looking back… I’m pretty sure he had access to a better weather service than we did.
Right on schedule, the first storm hit around 2 a.m. Wind picked up first, moving things I thought were heavy enough to stay put. Then the rain came — light at first, then like somebody flipped the “monsoon” switch.
Water rushed down the hill straight toward that “dry” creek bed. The road to the leaders’ section quickly turned into something resembling Class II rapids. All that water headed right toward the boys’ tents at the bottom.
John and I tried everything to divert water — digging channels, moving gear, anything. Nothing worked. There was just too much water. We grabbed spare tarps and rolled them into makeshift coffer dams.
At that point, we weren’t so much “in control” as we were “participating in a natural disaster.”
After about twenty minutes, the rain eased. Radar showed the second, stronger line about thirty minutes out.
Then my son called out from his tent asking if they could come out — said there was “a little water” inside.
In Scout language, “a little water” can mean anything from damp socks to an indoor swimming pool.
I told them to stay put. The storm wasn’t done with us yet.
As we kept working, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.
Another toad. Moving uphill. Faster than the first one.
At that moment, I should have packed everyone up and followed that toad like he was Moses.
The second storm hit harder than the first. John and I were soaked to the bone. By the time it ended, every tent had at least an inch of water inside. Not a single dry sleeping bag or cot left.
My entire focus was on the boys. That was the Scoutmaster in me. Thankfully, we had stored some dry wood under a tarp and could at least build a fire to start drying things out.
Only later that morning did I check my own gear.
The water had pushed loose debris against my tent and literally shoved it downhill. There were six inches of mud inside. Somehow, though, everything on top of my cot — including my CPAP and electronics — stayed dry.
I still can’t explain that. I’m calling it either divine intervention or really good cot placement.
After breakfast, John and I loaded every sleeping bag and six full trash bags of clothes, and drove into town to a laundromat. I don’t even want to think about how many quarters we fed those dryers. I’m pretty sure the owner saw us coming and started pricing beach houses.
When we got back, John offered to let me stay in his tent for the rest of the week. Thankfully, his tent was large enough for both of us. After the night I had just experienced — losing a fight with rain, gravity, and poor campsite placement — I wasn’t about to argue.
At that point, pride was gone. Survival and dry socks were the only goals.
Besides, after spending half the night building tarp dams in a thunderstorm together, sharing a tent didn’t even make the top ten list of weird things that had happened that week.
The rest of the week went perfectly. The boys had a blast. Nothing was ruined — just wet and sleep-deprived. And probably a little more respectful of weather forecasts… and fast-moving amphibians.
And I learned something important.
If you ever see toads moving quickly before a storm… You might want to follow them to higher ground.
The weather for this coming week is supposed to be pretty mild. Highs are projected to be in the upper 60s to low 70s, with lows settling into the mid-to-upper 40s and low 50s. It’s not exactly perfect fishing weather, but it’s definitely showing signs of promise — like spring is standing just around the corner, thinking about knocking.
Monday is shaping up to be the warmest day, with highs in the low 70s. Unfortunately, it’s a little too late to start loading up the kayak now, and my gear isn’t quite ready to roll anyway. Tuesday has a similar forecast, but I’ve got a couple of doctor appointments that I can’t exactly reschedule just because the fish might be biting.
Thursday is off the table too, thanks to a couple more appointments. Wednesday and Saturday are both calling for rain, which pretty much leaves Friday as the last real contender for the week.
Friday’s high is only projected to be in the mid-60s — not ideal for me — but honestly, it all comes down to the wind. Anything over about 10 miles per hour is a hard no for kayak fishing. So for now, I’ll just have to wait until later in the week to get a better handle on the wind forecast before I decide if Friday is a “go fishing” day or a “drink coffee and stare at the lake from a distance” day.
Either way, it’s nice to see temperatures starting to creep upward. Even if I don’t make it out this week, it’s a reminder that fishing season isn’t too far away.
I don’t know who offended Mother Nature, but at this point, I’m convinced somebody cut her off in traffic, stole her parking spot, and ate the last donut. Whatever it was, we are all paying for it.
She is currently having a full-blown emotional breakdown in the atmosphere.
Seven days ago, we were told a freeze watch might be issued. Then some warm Gulf air came rolling in and bullied the Arctic air back north like, “Ma’am, this is the South. You’re lost.” For a hot minute, it looked like we’d escaped.
But no. Of course not.
Now, the forecast says temperatures were supposed to start dropping Saturday night and continue their descent into single digits by Tuesday morning. Single digits. That’s not “a little chilly.” That’s “why do I live where the air hurts my face?”
But don’t put away your shorts yet, because Mother Nature is also predicting mid-40s next week. Awesome. A whole three days of false hope.
And now… now they’re saying snow is possible next weekend.
So let me get this straight. We’re doing spring, winter, fake spring, and winter: the sequel all in the same ten-day period?
Mother Nature is not controlling the climate — she’s playing roulette with it.
She really needs to get her act together and make up her mind. People in the South are not equipped for this kind of psychological warfare. We own exactly one coat. It’s decorative. It comes out for Christmas photos and emergency runs to Walmart when the bread aisle looks like it’s been looted.
Down here, extended cold doesn’t just affect the weather — it affects our entire economy. Milk and bread disappear. Churches cancel. Schools close if a snowflake thinks about falling. We start with dripping faucets, opening cabinets, wrapping pipes, and saying things like, “I’m just gonna let it run all night,” as if we’re on some kind of plumbing life support system.
So to whoever angered Mother Nature: own it. Apologize. Send her a fruit basket. Light a candle. Do something. Because the rest of us are out here wearing three layers, questioning our life choices, and checking the forecast like it owes us money.
Mother Nature, if you’re listening — pick a personality and stick with it.
I wrote in my last post about how crazy our weather has been. Apparently, the weather department took that as a challenge.
Last night, it decided to toss in another curveball — a cold front pushing through, dragging thunderstorms along with it. We spent most of the day and evening under a tornado watch. By bedtime, we had already picked up nearly three inches of rain, and the storms were still rolling in. The thunder wasn’t rumbling anymore; it was auditioning for a demolition crew.
Before going to sleep, I set my phone alarm for 5:30 a.m. so I could get up and get ready for men’s Bible study at 8. Responsible. Mature. Clearly overconfident.
Sometime later, I heard an alarm and woke up. I didn’t question it. I just accepted my fate. I took a long, hot shower, shaved, got dressed, and headed to the kitchen. I started the coffee and even remember thinking, “Tracy should be getting up soon. It’s got to be around six.”
The first pod finished, and I glanced at the stove clock.
4:10 a.m.
I stared at it, waiting for it to blink and say “Just kidding.”
It didn’t.
I checked my watch. Same time. That’s when it hit me — I hadn’t been woken up by my phone alarm. I’d been summoned by the weather radio.
I sat down in my recliner with my coffee and pulled up the radar. Sure enough, the National Weather Service had issued a flash flood warning at 3:45 a.m. That alert was the “alarm” that launched me into full morning-person cosplay.
So there I was — clean, dressed, caffeinated, and absolutely betrayed — living in a time slot meant only for bakers, farmers, and people who lost a bet.
There was no going back to bed. And even if I tried, I’d probably sleep right through the real 5:30 alarm just to complete the joke.
Moral of the story: I don’t need an alarm clock. I need a personal meteorologist who knows when to mind his business.
A shelf I built for the kitchen but ended up in the garage
Life has been so stressful lately and I guess I eat more when I’m stressed. I thought when I retired my life would be less stressful but lately, it hasn’t been the case. I’ve tried to stay on my diet but that hasn’t worked out so well. The good news is that I’m back on it and I’ve already lost six pounds. I’ve set mini goals and I’m about four pounds before I reach my first ten-pound mini-goal. My twin daughters will be graduating from college in May. They want to go on a cruise in June so this has given me an incentive to lose about twenty pounds before the trip. I really hope I can do it.
As I’ve stated last time I wrote, I had applied for Social Security disability. I had my hearing and I got a favorable decision. I’m still waiting on my backpay as well as my first check. This whole process has me concerned somewhat. I’m not surer If I can explain it or not but it makes me feel inferior or worthless. I’ve worked all my life and over thirty-two years at my last job, not they’re telling me that I can’t work. I feel like I can do something but I’ve got to be honest with myself, I do have trouble breathing when I do anything. No one will hire me at my age with all the issues that I have. So I guess I’ll just have to get over it.
The last two days have been dry and I’m glad it has because the few days before that it rained at least four inches in less than two days. The next four days we’re supposed to get at between six and seven more inches. There will be a lot of flooding and trees down. Let’s hope that the severe weather that is projected for Wednesday is not too bad.
Tomorrow will be a hard day for me. One of my friends worked for Kimberly Police department and was shot and killed the other day while on duty. He will be buried tomorrow. If you’re a praying person please pray for Nick O’Rear’s family.
The weather here in the deep south has been less than perfect for bike riding for me. The last two days it’s been a rainy, dreary day. Today the temperature hardly rose above the mid 50’s mark. Tomorrow is forcasted to be warmer but not until mid afternoon. My plan is to either get a twenty mile in on Saturday or wait until Sunday when I should have more time.
My last ride broke the 100 mile mark. That’s pretty good considering that only six months ago I was considering selling my bike because of my health. I’m looking forward to much healther days along with miles and miles of riding.
For those that have been following, my breathing had gotten pretty bad as of late. I’ve been passed around different doctors for several weeks now and finally I was able to get a little relief. I had to take a full day off last Thursday but I was able to meet with my pulmonologist and he pulled just a little over a liter of fluid off my right lung. I feel that he could have pulled more out but every little bit helps. I’m not breathing as well as I was when I got out of the hospital a couple of months ago but they were able to pull 2 liters out last time. Their not exactly sure why I’m retaining the fluid but they have an idea that it’s the CML meds causing it. They weren’t able to test the fluid last time because the doctor didn’t tell anyone to test it. This time he took several samples to send to the lab so hopefully they’ll be able to narrow it down as to the cause.
It’s been 28 days since we’ve gotten any rain here. The picture above shows an area that is normally very green. As you can see it’s all covered with brown grass. Can’t wait until we see some rain.
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