I thought my nephew was dead. I got a call the Tuesday after Easter from my brother, who said that his ill-begotten son had died early in the morning. So, now, I find out that the mother LIED about miscarrying. My niece was born Wednesday, May 14th. Her name is Accadia Lynn. She weighs 7 pounds, some ounces, has a head full of darkish hair and very blue eyes. And I am going to beat her lying slut of a mother into a vegetable state.
My brother graduated. Despite how close he came to not making it, he has succeeded with flying colors. I was so very proud of him that I decorated his car to show my happiness. Then we threw water balloons at each other. It was kewl.
Tornadoes are NOT impossible at 7,000 feet above sea level. I know this, because we had two (count 'em!) on Herr Doktor's birthday. We spent our respective Thursdays huddled in basements and bathrooms, texting each other and thinking, "Now, how the HELL did this happen?"
That is, in fact, a fantastic question. A tornado requires both warm, moist air and cool, dry air. When an air stream hits a mountain range, it is forced upwards. This upward motion causes moisture to condense and fall to earth, in addition to a large loss of heat. Thus, the mountains basically prevent the formation of a tornado, because the necessary air currents almost never make it to the top.
So, ya. Between babies coming back to life, my youngest brother pwnzing high school, and tornadoes dropping on Laramie, I would say that several bits of impossible have dropped on my head.
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