"Where" I'm Coming From

Today we get to the "Where" o' this, as in "Where are you going to be doing this, Random?". That's a fairly easy one to answer, actu'ly. I'll be conducting this little experiment out o' my house fer the most part. I ain't got any plans to do any traveling over the next year er so, although that my change. If I do have to leave town fer any reason, then I'll have to make sure I have a goodly supply of apples available to me wherever I head out to.

Like I said a couple days ago, I am currently living in a little one horse town (without the horse) with delusions o' grandeur in southern Arizona. I ain't gonna tell you the name o' the town 'cause the city fathers have big enough heads 'bout the imaginary importance o' the town without me adding to their self-aggrandizement by mentioning its name in a public forum like this. Suffice it to say that, if America was a big ol' cow, Arizona would be the hind end o' that cow. 'N' if Arizona was the hind end o' the big ol' cow that was America, then the place I live would be what one would normally 'spect to find south o' the hind end of a big ol' cow.

Now, don't go getting me wrong here. I ain't got nothing 'gain' the landscape o' the place. It does have a certain charm in its austere beauty that can really grab hold of a feller. There're times when it can be quite breathtaking; like after a few days o' rain when the desert just seems to explode with a green furze over all the hills, 'specially in the spring when all the wildflowers 'n' cacti bloom in all their glory o' myriad colors. It's got some amazing sunsets, 'n', late in the day sometimes, the mountains to the west of us can be seen through a haze o' dust er light rain 'n' take on the aspect o' something out of a Tolkien landscape.

'N' then there's the wild thunderstorms we can get during the summers. Now, I love me a good thunderstorm, with the white clouds billowing up over the horizon, then slowly going from white to grey to almost black. Then the wind kicks up, there's a sudden flash o' light, 'n' a crack o' thunder that will, quite literally, rattle the windows. Then it's just, "Whoa, Nelly, grab the washing of the line!", 'cause here comes a rain so heavy you cain't see ten feet in front o' you. (Course, the wife ain't so fond o' the storms. While I'm running from window to window glorying in all the ferocious beauty o' nature, she's usually hiding under the bed clothes with the cats hoping the lightning won't find her 'n' yelling at me to turn off all the electrics 'n' stay out o' the bathrooms.)

No, they ain't nothing wrong with this area that a good dose o' plague er a small nuclear "accident" couldn't cure. 'N' it's a good sight better 'round here than it is up north. Even a good dose o' plague er a small nuclear "accident" couldn't cure the problems of a place like Phoenix. That'd take something on the scale of a good ol' biblical, Sodom 'n' Gomorrah type of event. 'N', given the way the politicians up there've been acting the past couple years, they'd be deserving o' something 'long those lines.