Asploxon!

Yup, a-s-p-l-o-x-o-n. I decided one day in my Chemistry class that I wanted to spell 'asplotion ("Your head asplode"-Strongbad...go to homestarrunner, it gives your laughing muscles a workout) with an "x." Asploxon (pronounced explosion, or asplosion, whichever you prefer) was the outcome in the side column next to my titration notes (or was it molality? I don't remember).

So, why the sudden asploxon? It started with my helping to make Sunday dinner, well, dessert anyway. My mission was to make a delicious poppy seed bundt cake (with my help from a lovely store-bought cake mix, a few eggs, a splash of vegetable oil, and some pudding mix). All I had to do was dump everything together, mix, grease, pour, and bake. Sometimes things are easier said than done. Especially when one has too much sugar in her system and has too much energy to simply stand still.

I learned a new lesson that Sunday: Always open cake mixes with scissors, even if you do think you are the incredible hulk (or that's who your Mother says you are impersonating). I ended up losing a bit of the mix all over me, the counter top, and the floor, but luckily not enough to ruin the cake. I made myself hungry every time I got a whiff of my yellow-cake perfume.

The cake turned out fine and quite yummy, but while I wasn't busy with said cake mix I decided I would help my Mother crack some nuts we had left over from Christmas (I wasn't eating them, but she had had one or two before I came to "help"). Needless to say I was in a bit of a bouncy mood that whole day, or maybe asploxon would be more accurate? With nutcracker and pecan, cashew, or almond in hand I shelled a few random nuts (which could have almost been categorized as artillery blasts; my sinister laughs followed by a crack and flying nutshells all through the kitchen). I picked up nut after nut, always asking "Do you want one of these Mom?" or "What's this one Mom?"

I picked up one, small, round, acorn-ish shaped nut and asked what kind of nut it was. "Um..." said my Mom as she looked up. "I think it is a ...? No, I am not sure..."
"Is it a hazelnut?"
"No, not a hazelnut."
"Macadamia, Macadamia!! Ooo! I know! It's a Heckleberry!" said I in my asploxon-mood voice with my giggles and laughs sure to follow.
"There's no such thing as a Heckleberry, BandNeeek." (no, my Mom doesn't really call me BandNeeek)
"Sure there is! That's a Heckleberry!"

I like to make up words if you haven't noticed. It could be considered a favorite past time of mine if you like. Anyway, I continued making a mess (in the just cleaned kitchen might I add) and my Mom kept trying to get me to stop (she didn't want to eat them anymore, and wanted my mess to stop growing...I was picking most of it up as I went...teehee). After a few more minutes I stopped my cracking rampage and we picked up the rest of the prodigal shells.
"Oh, I know what it is!" cried my wise Mother. "It's a Filbert!"
"I still think it's a Heckleberry," replied my goofy self.

Sunday night we got dumped on. By snow. And my brother, sister-in-law, and I all had to drive back up to their home that night in the middle of it. I loved it! We headed out around 10-10:30 , I loaded my stuff in my car, and they in theirs. I started sweeping the 4+ inches snow off my car and found as soon as I had gone all the way around I had to start over again as I found another thick layer of snow on all my windows. I went around 3 or 4 times before I gave up and hoped in. I was covered with snow just as my car was, especially my hair (I love having snow in my hair and eyelashes...it is one of the many things on my "what makes me happy" list).

The snowplows hadn't gotten anywhere in my city yet (there was close to 6 inches on the roads/freeway) and I was doing pretty well for not having much experience with such conditions. I made it up a nasty little hill, around a few turns, and down a couple not quite as nasty hills without sliding much at all.

Then there was the stoplight. I was far back enough that I had to stop, so I pressed the brakes gently, but I was also coming from the bottom of a hill. I slowed, but I slid a few feet to the side and stopped just before hitting the curb. Cool! My wheels spun a little as I got back into my lane (my brother and sister following behind) and I continued my cautious, crawling pace down the road even more cautiously. As we got closer to the freeway my brother called and we decided it would be best for my sister to drive my car the rest of the way. Fine by me! I like to drive in the snow, but only if there aren't many things close around that I could slide in to.

We didn't see the snowplows until we were through the next city on the freeway, by which time the snow wasn't falling as hard and the roads were merely wet and only a little slushy as opposed to buried in a half of a foot of snow. Silly plows. They stayed in front of us (all six of them) plowing the roads already in better condition, but I was grateful for them nonetheless. I am sure they kept the wet roads from turning to an ice sheet overnight.

We got another storm early this morning (Tuesday), but the roads weren't quite as bad. Still unplowed when I left for school, but not as bad. I saw a few Highway patrol/county sheriff/city police stopped with a few cars off the road and only one ambulance (I saw another and a fire engine on the way home though...every time I see an emergency vehicle I want to climb aboard, ride along, learn, and help people! But if I ever did I would probably be arrested and get a restraining order on all vehicles with flashing lights and sirens...Ack! There I go getting distracted again.) the whole drive. I am glad that there weren't any serious accidents, a happy surprise for me.

So, a happy summary: cake mixes, nutshells, and clouds (with added hyperness) make joyous asploxons and big messes. Stay safe and cautious! Catch a snowflake, raindrop, or a ray of sunlight on your tongue today. Savour it, you never know how long it might take to get another.

-The BandNeeek