Peeling Grapes

I haven't the foggiest notion about what I'm going to write about, but I've decided to write for a few minutes. I generally try not to let myself into the blog unless I have something definite to consider or well, something to bitch about, but here I am. It seems an endless day and I intend to waste a bit of it.

Peeling grapes. I looked up at a picture of us with a cider bottle on the table. That made me think of apples, and I thought of my mom and dad, who went to Georgia's apple capital this week, Ellijay, to fetch more apples for eating, drying, storing, etc. I thought of how they'd be peeling them, and then I thought about other things that get peeled. Then I thought of how its supposed to be a sign of great honor, love, respect, etc. etc. if someone peels a grape for you--since they're little and slimy-ish--not the easiest fruit to peel.

"There's an appealing fellow...there..a-...peelin' him off the sidewalk!"

There was an amazingly powerful fall thunderstorm that took hold of the Atlanta metro area last night. We were just relaxing and suddenly noticed that the power was out, and sirens were wailing all over the place. We found batteries for a little radio Dawn had stashed and we were finally, around tired rhetoric from some conservative AM Radio talk show host, able to get a weather update.

A couple of tornado warnings, some even louder sirens, and some amazing steel blue clouds with serious lightning later, the power came back on, and temperatures fell radically as a cold front pushed through.

Ok, that's all I've got. If I think of anything else interesting, I'll come back and tell you.

As for now, consider your grape peeled.

Relaxing?