Fun With Alliteration
Since blog posts with alliterative titles seem to be very popular, I thought I’d give it a go. You might remember my less-than-stellar post from yesterday entitled “Two-fer Tuesday”. It may not have been original or captivating, but it was definitely alliterative. And what is alliteration but a form of repetitiveness?
So what shall I talk about tonight that is wacky? Oh … I know … how about some wacky weather? We’ll just make this Wacky Weather Wednesday. How much more alliterative can it get?
Even though we are in the dead of winter here in Dallas, the temperatures have been near 80 (~ 26 C) for the past week. People are walking around in short pants and short sleeves. Yesterday I drove home with the window down in my truck. I hadn’t really planned on doing that, but “China Grove” by the Doobie Brothers came on while I was listening to my CD player and according to the law, one must roll their vehicle windows down at that point, hang the left arm out the window, and do the head bop. Air guitar is normally recommended, but not while driving.
Due to the warm weather, things are starting to bloom. The first thing to come up was, of course, the crab grass. It will pretty much pop up any time the temperature rises above absolute zero. Tree leaves are budding out. The hyacinth are pushing their way up out of the ground. Birds are starting to think about flying north again even though they still have some vacation days they need to burn off. If this keeps up, I will need to get outside and mow the law before the first week of February is over.
But I decided today that I am going to stop railing about our lack of winter this year here in Dallas. There are worse problems to have. At least we don’t have any volcanoes here in Texas.
Tomorrow we will eagerly await for the appearance of Waxahachie Phil, our local weather-predicting armadillo. He will emerge from his burrow on Knobbler’s Gob and take a look about. If he is bitten by a mosquito, he will go back inside and we are doomed to six additional months of summer. If there are no mosquitoes, he’ll go back inside his burrow anyway because he doesn’t like taking questions. He is sort of the Bill Belichick of armadillos.