The Fickleness of the Weather

Hurricane Ike seems to be struggling to decide where to come in. Now, I realize that there is only so much accuracy when a storm is this far out, but really. I’m tired of being told it’s coming your way, oh wait no it’s going to Mexico, wait again, it may hit you after all. Anyways, my plans are shot for the weekend. I was going to go home to my parents, but they are in the middle of all of this mess. And I don’t want to get caught in it. It’s kind of funny. All of our technology and we’re still at the beck and call of nature.

~The Countess~

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About texancountess

I find myself in the calming roar of the sea, floating gently on the foam of the breaking waves. Blue. Green. Gray. The colors of the sea mark the boundaries of my soul. The tumbled glass finds its polish under the relentless pounding of the waves upon the shore. Thus am I. Rough transitioning to polish, refinement ever a process, finding my niche in the storms of life.
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