Hail

The skies opened, and celestial ice balls came pouring out.

Fortunately, I was already at home, and the car was in the carport. The trees weren't so lucky; leaves and branches were ripped away and strewn about the ground, completely covering the rock beds and sidewalks. You'd think a quick-thinking journalist like myself would run outside with a camera to document the carnage as it was happening, but...well, there must've been something good on TV.

I did peek out the window at one point. I'd guess the hailstones were about marble-sized (both regular and "shooter"). I found myself thinking that it's interesting that we don't really have a detailed continuum of reference sphere sizes to use for hailstone comparisons. There's a gap between marbles and golf balls, and a larger spread between golf and tennis balls. And from baseball to softball-size is a huge jump.

Regardless, the destructive force of a billion frozen marbles is still considerable. My personal possessions seem to have survived undamaged, but the leaf-blower dudes had plenty to do the next day.

As I mentioned, I was home when the storm rolled through. Fortunately, some of the more devoted employees were still at the office and noticed that the carpet was getting a tad damp.

Our office is at the bottom of a hill. Well, the storm drain in the upper parking lot is supposed to capture and divert excess water before it can flow down the hill and into the building...but the intensity of the hailstorm caused the drain grate to become covered with a mesh of hail, branches, leaves, and mud. The water had nowhere to go.

According to tales told by the folks who were working late, there were heroic efforts to unclog the drain, move equipment from flooded areas, and generally protect the premises from the sudden sea that threatened to engulf the building. They also called a disaster service, who brought in a boatload of blowers to dry everything up after the storm had passed.

This was the view in the hallway as recovery efforts proceeded. (My office door is just to the left of the frame.)



There were two more blowers inside my office, and countless others throughout the entire building.



The good news is that the carpets are now dry and the damage was limited. The bad news is that all the blowers and ripped-off molding will remain where they are until after the insurance adjuster has made a visit. Not sure when that'll be. No worries, though; I'm getting used to ducking under air tubes and stepping around floor fans.

On a different topic, I thought I'd ask what you guys do with certificates you receive. Is there any reason for me to keep my Horsetooth 2.4-mile lake swim completion certificate? Probably not. Scan it and toss it.

But what if I somehow become famous and one of my grandkids could get it appraised on the Antiques Roadshow in 50 years or so? Wouldn't that make it worth hanging onto?

Hmm, it's not actually signed by anyone, and could be reprinted as needed. OK, it's going in the trash.

I'll hang onto my All-American certificate; that document represents a larger accomplishment. And I suppose my diploma and college degrees have some value in their paper form. Otherwise, let's not clog the file cabinets. But seriously; what do you keep?

OK. One last thought before I hit the button and head off to work. As everyone knows, Leonard da Vinci went to extreme lengths to conceal the fact that Jesus had a grandson who worked with Shoeless Joe Jackson to build the pyramids, invent the formula for Coca Cola, and assassinate JFK. But as far as I know, no one has yet pieced together the connections between the Illuminati and the Los Angeles Dodgers.

I don't have the answers, myself. But I do know that Dodger pitcher Don Drysdale once appeared on Leave it to Beaver. His probable relative, Milburn Drysdale, was the banker for millionaire hillbilly J.D. Clampett, whose nephew was a known double-naught spy. But the missing piece of the puzzle is how the Dodgers became connected with Clampett.

I offer the following evidence, and you may draw your own conclusions. On numerous occasions, the lesser Clampetts have demonstrated the ability to shoot flies off the wall at greater than 200 paces -- and Jed is acknowledged to be the best shot of the bunch. And yet, during the famed "Texas Tea" event, he is seen clearly missing an immobile jackrabbit from no more than 15 yards away. We are supposed to believe that this highly improbable lapse in marksmanship led to the "accidental" discovery of resources that would lead Clampett to an influential position in Hollywood...but it smells of high conspiracy to me. I'm betting that further investigation would lead directly to George Bush, Dick Chaney, and L. Ron Hubbard -- probably through connections with suspicious characters such as the so-called "Dash" Riprock.

Let me know what you think. In the meantime, I'm hoping you have successfully navigated the recent summer storms, and will continue to do so as autumn approaches. Have a great day!