Author Archives: Jerrie Cate

Teaching Dogs New Tricks

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It started snowing yesterday morning and has been snowing for weeks, now. The prediction for accumulation was from 2-3 inches, depending where you happened to be at any given time, but we only have about a foot. Before it got too bad, I thought I’d take the dogs into the yard and teach them how to spell their name in the snow. Turns out they don’t know how to spell, at all. So, I just gave up and let them scribble a bit. Maybe you can figure out what they were attempting to share.

Diane felt the need to make a cake for a memorial service scheduled for tomorrow at church. To continue being a church lady, she MUST bake a cake for every memorial service, whether or not she knows the person being memorialized. In this case, however, we know him. So, it will be an extra special cake.

The trip into town went without mishap. The only roads with snow on them are in front of our house. It will never be plowed because it’s not a city street, and it’s a dead end. So, the only way our street becomes passable is when someone drives on it. Usually, that’s George, a neighbor, who runs his 4-wheel drive rig up and down the street. He didn’t have to do that today, however, because the temperature went up to about 34 and the falling snow turned to really, really heavy snowflakes. The noise they made when they hit the snow on the ground was incredible, and it quickly pounded the accumulation down to an inch or so.

Tonight it’s going to freeze, then snow all night. Tomorrow’s commute is going to  be a ton of fun to watch. I wish for all of them to be safe in their journey. Still, the State Troopers will be non-stop busy catering to the idiots who think they’re bullet proof.

Our little dog, Ozzie, isn’t himself lately. He’s being terribly antisocial, hiding out in his kennel, and rarely going outside. I thought he might be constipated and thought about giving him some mineral oil. Instead, we took him to the vet for a checkup where they took X-rays, poked & prodded him a little, and told us he was constipated. The doc said to give him mineral oil for a few days and to bring him back if things didn’t improve. Then they charged us $157 for the service. Hmmmm. Maybe I should have been a vet.

Ozzie’s problem is also psychological. As I said, he hangs out in his kennel pretty much all the time, never plays any more, and doesn’t talk to us about what’s troubling him. We plead with him to let us know what’s going on but he just stares at us with his glossed over eyes, looking through us, not at us. We’re beginning to think he has a drug problem, but can’t find any evidence of that in his kennel. All we can do is focus on his behavior. I considered gathering a group of his friend to have an intervention, but I’m afraid he might bite someone. Lately he’s prone to being a little gnarly and growly. Maybe if I was constipated like him, I’d be a little gnarly and growly, too. Might even bite someone.

I’m waiting for all that mineral oil to kick in and evacuate Ozzie’s innards. I have this vision of all 6 pounds of him humped up in the yard for the big moment. When it happens, the discharge is so powerful that it propels his rear into the air and his nose into the snow. I’m keeping the video camera handy, just in case.

I hope everyone is staying safe and warm.

Winter is Finally Here

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Here in the beautiful NW part of the USA we’ve been suffering through a very annoying heat wave. It’s been, like, 60-70 degrees every day since October making everyone wonder if we’d ever get a taste of what winter is like. Many of us, in the older segment of life, can’t remember anything about it.

That actually isn’t true (of course) because I was reviewing some old pictures on my computer and found quite a few of them with that odd white stuff. Diane told me what it was. When I first saw it, I thought it was dandruff. Really big dandruff. But, that didn’t make sense to me so I sought out Diane for clarification. She always gives me the right answer to any question I ask. And, I ask a lot of them. I’ve learned to ignore her rolling eyes that accompany some of the answers. I really have no choice but to believe everything she tells me because I have no reference as to what’s correct or not with regard to any given question. As I tell her, frequently, I ask questions because I don’t know the answer. So, who am I to question any response to my questions? Surely no one would lie to me. Would they?

I’ve learned that many of my questions are rhetorical. I didn’t know what that meant until last week. Before that, I thought people were either just ignoring me, or they didn’t know the answer. Now that I know what rhetorical means, I never expect an answer. So, when I get one, it’s special. I treasure it. Some times I write it down. When I find it, a few days later, I wonder what it means because I’ve forgotten the question for which I’m holding the answer. Very confusing. Makes my head hurt sometimes.

Today Diane and I went to the horse races at Portland Meadows. The 9th race was a memorial for Charlynn Taketa, our friend who was killed at the track when a horse kicked her. That was on August 11th, 2011. Diane, I, Vie, Tom, Linda, Jack, and Wynette joined Jerry 1 to share this moment in memory of his wife. We all joined Jerry in the winner’s circle where he was presented with a beautiful quilt made from old T-shirts he and Lynn had collected over the years. A beautiful memorial.

At the track I ate a lunch. Actually, it was a huge appetizer, because Diane made me eat a chicken sandwich on our way to the track. The appetizer consisted of 15 long, straight shrimp on a bed of succulent tater tots. All for $7.25. I should have taken a picture. Besides being amazed at the incredible price, I was mesmerized by their shape. As I said they were long and straight. All were about 3-4″ long. Where do you suppose they grow straight shrimp. Until today I thought all shrimp were curly. They were really good. They were especially good because Jerry 1 paid for them. Actually, I paid for them, but later Jerry had the waitress give me back my money. What a guy! Some of my best friends are the ones who buy me food. I just love those folks.

Diane just left to go play Bunco. She’s on a team in the St. Helens Greater Open Bunco League (SHGOBL). They play once a month, always on a Monday, and teams travel from all over the NW to participate. Once a year they hold their tournaments at our house which is why I know, for sure, that the SHGOBL isn’t about “the game”, it’s all about snacks, wine, and the chance to shriek loudly at odd times throughout the game.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with bunco, let me help you out. It’s like Yahtzee on steroids, but they only use 3 die. To begin the game, someone rings a bell. When everyone is convinced that the bell caused by the wine, or spiked snacks, one person at each of the three tables starts rolling the dice as fast as they can. Their temporary partner, across the table, keeps track of the number of 1’s rolled. When all five dice are rolled, and a 1 doesn’t show, the dice pass to the next person who also rolls as fast as they can. At some point they get tired of rolling for 1’s and progress to 2’s. When one pair isn’t rolling they are allowed to roam freely though out the facility to get wine, snacks, and to distract participants at the other two tables, if they can. Usually this is done by offering wine and snacks, which are never refused.

The game ends when either the wine & snacks are gone, or the hostess runs out of toilet paper. Regarding the latter, the hostess for any given match is limited to supply only 3 rolls of toilet paper. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. The toilet paper rule was added to the tournament by laws as an effort to be conserve our natural resources, and to ensure that participants didn’t use up all the hostess’s napkins in addition to the toilet paper. All league members quickly saw this as an opportunity to use up all their cheap toilet paper during their turn as hostess. Indeed, many hostesses began buying up the half-ply toilet paper imported from the The Arctic. I think Costco sells it. You can get 185 rolls for a small goat.

Gotta quit and get my fingers back under control. They’re just going crazy here.

Jerry 1’s New Toy & the TVCC

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Jerry 1 is the first of a very short list of Jerry’s who are charter members of the Tualatin Valley Cruiser Club (TVCC). This club is, without a doubt, one of the largest, and certainly one of the oldest clubs originally established for folks who owned Chrysler PT Cruisers. The original group had three Jerry’s, with various spellings, of which I was #2. I wanted to be #3, but everyone insisted that we be recognized in chronological order. Jerry 1, therefore, is the oldest. #3 is currently in a sunnier location, running over folks with his Segway. His Bride has one, too, and it’s been reported that they race them up and down their street, when they’re home, without a care for all the children crawling across the street. They view them kind of like traffic cones – to be avoided, but it’s OK if you bump one. That’s not true, of course.

The TVCC has been going strong for the last 10 years thanks to the tireless efforts of Rick & Jody. It’s really all Rick, but Jody lets him do it, so I guess it’s really all Jody. Whatever … it’s a great club. They boast members from all over the US as well as some in Canada & Europe. They even have a board of directors. Diane and I used to be on the board. I might have still been a member of the Board, but the majority fear that my non-serious nature about all things might be detrimental to the club image.

I’m getting off the subject, here …

The essence of this post is to clarify that, though the TVCC originated because of the PT Cruiser, of which we’ve owned 4, and currently have 2, it’s evolved into an organization that’s all about people who just like to gather, laugh, and tell lies to each other. I fit right in. It doesn’t matter if you have a PT Cruiser or not. The evidence is in the cars seen at the meetings. Jerry drove his 2012 Custom Camaro, we drove a Buick, and there was also a Dodge Magnum there last night. Oh, ya, the meetings are the 2nd Friday each month at Finley Sunset Hills Mortuary. I may have mentioned that before. So, if you ever find yourself in need of free entertainment on any 2nd Friday of any month, come on up. Dues are only $8 a year per person. That pays for the liability insurance and the TVCC web site. I’d add a link, but don’t know how, yet.

Last night’s meeting wore everyone out laughing at the antics of Jerry 1, an ex-jockey and undeniably the shortest man in the room, and Mike, a retired San Fran parole officer and the next shortest man in the room. The intention was for attendees to share stories about their best and worst cars. Between Jerry & Mike the conversation devolved into verbal sparring about how difficult it is for a short guy to shoot his rifle out of a foxhole. They were both in the Army, which is why it’s a foxhole. Apparently, if you’re short, about the only thing you can shoot out of a foxhole is a really large, slow bird. It was hilarious and I wish someone would have been filming it. It was one of those moments that needs to be frozen forever in time so you can go back and replay it.

The winner of the worst car was Vie, who was sitting at our table. She was part of the pre-meeting dinner group with us at Red Robin. The winner of the best car was Tom, who was also sitting at our table and was part of the pre-meeting dinner group. Vie’s car, in which she took her driver’s test, was an old farm truck with no doors, and two kitchen chairs for seats. She said she made sure that it had everything the driver’s manual mentioned before going for her driving test. Apparently there is no mention of doors and seats in the manual. She passed, by the way. Tom’ car is a 1964 Dodge Valiant that he’s had for 45 years. When he first got it he set it up as a dragster and ran it at tracks all up and down the West Coast. Vie said she remembers seeing the car at the Woodburn drag strip many, many years ago. This car has a 6-cylinder engine that propelled the car over 100 mph in a 1/4 mile. Quite respectful. He named it “Six Appeal”. The car is now a sedate little family coupe that will turn a 1/4 mile in about 13 seconds. Nice. It’s a red one.

So, now, back to Jerry 1’s Camaro … he claimed it as his best car because it’s a tribute to his deceased wife. She’s the one I wrote about previously who was killed at the race track when a horse kicked her. An odd tribute, you may think, but it’s OK. They discussed what each would do with their insurance money if one checked out before the other. The next time we see that car it will have Lamborghini doors … the kind that pop out and swing up. Nifty.

That’s about it for now. Except, while I sat here doing this, it snowed about 2″. First of the year. The weather man actually used the right dart this time.

Veterans

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Do you believe in Fate, or Destiny? I do, and have many reasons I could share to substantiate why. For this day, I’ll limit it to one.

Yesterday I had lunch with a WWII veteran at the St. Helens Senior Center. This is the second time I sat across the table from him in the last two months. I only go on days that Diane volunteers to serve with our church ladies. He goes there every day.

Both Diane and I are card carrying members of the senior center, but rarely go. Sadly, the reason, as my new friend astutely surmised, “some times the lunch isn’t so good.” But, it’s only $4 for a nutritious meal and it serves our community well. The Center does more than meals, but that’s all I’ve investigated, so far. They have many activities to keep folks moving and thinking.

I learned a great deal about this gentleman while visiting over lunch. Mainly, I discovered that he was in the Navy during World War II and spent his entire enlistment in the South Pacific, 1943 thru 1945. While we talked he revealed that he’s having difficulty with the VA regaining control of his finances. He’s 100% disabled, you see, and at one point it was determined that he needed someone to take care of his money. His efforts to get a valid ruling on this issue was met with silence. His main connection to the VA was the local VA Service Officer who is no longer in that position. So, the VA ships in folks from Portland and Salem a couple of times a week.

Taking my first step down a different road, I offered to see what I could do to help my shipmate. Knowing how understaffed the VA is, I had no illusions about a speedy resolution. So, you can imagine my surprise when I called the local VA office and obtained an appointment at 11:00 am this morning for him. I was flabbergasted, to say the least. It’s as if, gee, let’s see … like it was meant to be, that I was in the right place at the right time. It took me weeks to get an appointment for myself with the last VASO, so getting one for the next day was kind of like a miracle.

When I picked him up, he had a letter from the VA that he had received yesterday afternoon. It addressed the issue for which I obtained the appointment. “Hmmm,” goes I. “What a coincidence,” I think.

The VA Service Officer we met with is a retired Marine. He’s one of the VASO managers from Salem, and one who trains VASO’s how to do their jobs. It goes without saying that he knew his “stuff”. After a couple of phone calls he had a course of action and felt there would be action on this issue very soon. Perhaps, in only a couple of weeks.

Both of us left that meeting with different feelings. My friend no longer felt alone and abandoned by a system that’s in place to help him. Me? I left with a sense of wonder at how all of this came together so quickly. It was very humbling. My belief is that by extending a helping hand without expectations, or any kind of a plan, something clicked in the universe to make it all work. It wasn’t me, it was the act. I was a tool.

It’s odd for me to be writing about something serious. It’s just not something I do. I usually poke fun at my lovely bride, and she takes it in stride, knowing I don’t mean a word of it. This is different, however.

Our WWII Vets are disappearing at an alarming rate and we need to honor them. The VASO said it best that, had it not been for my new friend, and all those with whom he served, we would be speaking different language in America today. Literally.

So, thank a vet whenever you see one.

Thanks, Lyle, Jim, and Jack, Gary, Jerry1, Jerry3, Bob, Larry, and all the rest of you who served our nation in any way.

It Was a Sunday …

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I just laid around and did nothing all day long.

Had  been allowed to do that yesterday, at least for a little while longer, I probably wouldn’t have been injured so severely.

Jeran laid around with me and also did nothing all day long. We talked a lot and watched a lot of “How it’s Made” on the Science Channel. Now I know how frozen waffles are made.

A Busy Saturday

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Greetings!

I was sitting calmly in my recliner when Diane asked me if I was going to just sit around all day. It being Saturday, and all, I figured that would be OK. Apparently not. So, I searched the house for some work clothes, put them on, and went out to dismantle the old Winnebago with my reciprocating saw. I started in the front, drivers side, and worked my way to the back. It didn’t take a lot of effort to knock down entire wall on that side. Now it’s just a half a bago.

Things went just fine until I got to the back and started taking out the crossmember for the bathroom cabinet. I was sawing away like crazy, feeling good about my progress, when, all the sudden, a piece of wall fell over and whacked me in the side of the head. I knew immediately that I had once again been fatally wounded because the part that hit me was the remainder of a soap dish I had partially removed from the wall. It was in the perfect location to make a really nice gouge, through my hat, without tearing it at all, and giving me whiplash, from which I may never recover.

Gnarly, huh? Diane made me quit working when she saw the blood, and wanted me to go to the emergency room for stitches, but I know how they operate. They’ve given me lots of stitches in the past and I didn’t want to spend another afternoon chatting with all those terminally ill people. So, I allowed Diane to operate on me to fix it.

She shaved around the wound, after I suffered through a shower, during which I discovered that it wasn’t really a good idea to let the water run full force directly on the wound. It really made my eyes water. Then I sat on the couch so Diane could shave off enough hair so some butterfly bandaids would stick to my head. Before doing that, however, she dabbed it with iodine. During that process I learned it wasn’t a proper time to be issuing instructions. I had no idea a Q-tip could cause that much pain. You can bet that bit of info has been filed away in long term memory.

Right now my head is fine, thanks to my lovely wife. It’s not painful at all. My neck, however, is another matter. Tomorrow I just know I’m not going to be able to get out of bed because it’s really, really going to be hurting. A lot. The reason for that is the sideways whiplash caused by the attack.

I hope everyone had a better day than I did. This is a new one for me because, though I do have a reputation for hurting myself frequently, it’s never on my head. I’ll update this tomorrow, if I’m able.

Dog Food Wars

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I’ve mentioned this before, about how Ziva and Panzee have this daily argument about food. Just thought you might like to see the results of the confrontation. Not pretty. The upside is that they always clean up after themselves so we just leave them alone. About the only time it’s an issue is when they start yelling at each other in the living room while Diane’s trying to watch something on HGTV, or Grey’s Anatomy. Diane wants me to explain to them that they’re being rude and really annoying, but I’ve tried that. They either just don’t understand, or don’t care. I’m not sure which. So, I just don’t bother trying any more.

We were all excited to watch the Blazers play the Suns this evening but the referees, and poor shooting ruined it all. Apparently the pre game meeting, that all referees have, resulted in a decision to let the Suns win. So, they did. We quit watching with about 5 minutes to go in the 4th quarter with the Suns up 22. Bummer. Losing to the Suns isn’t as bad as losing to the Lakers and the Blazers beat them last night in PDX. So, they were tired for tonight’s game and should have been given a 10 point advantage for having to travel. That’s only fair.

This morning the dogs got me up at 6:45. They went outside for about 15 minutes. When they got back in, and I had filled their food bowls, in preparation for the afternoon food fight, I kicked back on the couch and slept until 10:22. I know it was that time, exactly, because that’s when Diane got up. She said she got up at 10:15, so I don’t know where that other 7 minutes went. I think she either fibbed, or just took 7 minutes to walk down the hall. It was a nice nap.

Since it was so late, we decided to have breakfast and call it lunch. We had bacon, hash browns, and a 6-egg cheese omelet, which we split right down the middle. I know it was right down the middle because I cut it. I also cooked it. Diane did the bacon and potatoes. We ate on our handy-dandy lap trays and watched a couple of recorded shows.

When Diane was done she had me hold her tray while she stood up so I took that opportunity to do a functional analysis of all her sphincter muscles. I call it a Sphincter Check. When she got up I held the tray up for her and her little bowl of strawberry jam just slid right off the tray, followed closely by the pepper shaker. All of her sphincters kicked in at once, sealing off various sections of her body like she was setting water tight integrity on a Navy ship (setting Zebra, it’s called). In a Navy ship it’s done to segment the ship into many water tight compartments to prevent the ship from sinking too quickly. In a human body, sphincters are set to keep anything from leaking out of the body. I guess we could call this test “setting sphincter”.

Doing this allowed her to react quickly enough to snag the jam bowl right out of the air, without spilling a drop. But, the pepper shaker wound up wrong side down in the jam and required a washing. She yelled at me, of course, not understanding the benefit of doing this critical body function check at least once a year. It’s important, as we get older, to ensure all of our remaining sphincters are fully operational and under our command.

It’s 10:30 pm and I’ve been up for 12 hours. Must be time for bed.

Working on the Winnebago

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Jack showed up this morning to help me work on the one ’68 Winnebago that was left in our yard a few years ago. We needed to move it a little ways  and it almost got away from  us. Fortunately, the emergency brake works nicely. Unfortunately, the front end wasn’t connected to the rest of the rig as well as it should have been. When the bottom stopped, the top didn’t. The results are as you see it. The upside of this little mishap is that it was simple to work on the engine, which was the main reason for Jack’s visit today.

Sadly, apparently no one read an earlier blog entry suggesting that folks come, participate, and bring food. Since Diane left shortly after Jack arrived, lunch was a meager affair. Since the only appliance I’m allowed to use, when Diane isn’t home, is the toaster, that’s what we had. Toast. With jelly. It was really good. We had coffee, too.

We made excellent progress getting to the engine thanks to the emergency brake. We found all these wires running all over the place and tried to reconnect everything, but decided it probably was a waste of time since there’s no battery in the rig. What’s the point of connecting all the wires if you can’t turn something on? But, it’s kinda pretty.

Tomorrow we’ll free the engine, and transmission, and implant them into the trailer he brought today. Oh! I almost forgot! Jack called me this morning to go help him load the engine lifter thingie into his trailer because it was heavy and he couldn’t quite make it. So I said, “sure”, of course. He told me he was on Little Street. Yes, there really is a Little Street in St. Helens. And, it’s really a little street. Short, actually. Even though it’s a little street, it took me a while to find him because he was really on Lee Street. He succeeded in confusing me which, I firmly believe, was his ultimate goal. He should be ashamed for picking on his little brother like that, but he isn’t. He’s always picking on me. But, we had fun working together today so there’s still hope for this relationship to blossom. It could happen.

Now I’m going to stop and watch the Orange Bowl.

Oregon Ducks Win Rose Bowl !!

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In an unprecedented move, in addition to winning the Rose Bowl game, the Oregon Ducks came up the lucky winner of the Rose Bowl. Many in attendance were unaware that the stadium was up for grabs, but the city of Pasadena made a brief, unreported statement prior to the game that they were tired of all “these strange people” over running their fair city all the time. So, their city council voted 4-3 to get rid of the stadium. It seemed to be the major item causing everyone to show up.

So, now that they’ve won it they’ll have to engage the Beaver engineers at Oregon State to devise a way to dismantle the stadium and transport it back to Eugene, Oregon where it will replace the fairly new Autzen Stadium. No one’s sure how that will work out since the Beavers and Ducks are mortal enemies. It could be ugly indeed. To make this work, all the Duck football games for 2012 will be played in Reser Stadium in Corvalis, Oregon, home of the daunted Beavers. Many Duck fans think this is OK, however, because they feel it would do the Reser stadium proud to have a winner in that stadium.

After the drawing, as mentioned above, the Ducks beat the Badgers in a game that could have gone either way until the Ducks went on top 42-38. The Badgers made a valiant effort with 16 seconds remaining but made a crucial judgement error after a first down by attempting to spike the ball with only 2 seconds left. Perhaps it was an experiment to see if it could be done in that amount of time. Now they know. It can’t. Game over, Ducks win. Their first Rose Bowl win since 1917. Some of the members of that team, from 95 years ago, were still on the team after receiving special waivers from the NCAA to extend their eligibility to play. No one at the game noticed them, however, because they weren’t moving very fast. It didn’t help that all of them had shrunk to the size of Kevin Duckworth’s left shoe. Still, they were a proud bunch who can now put it to rest having won their second Rose Bowl game.

A lot of the previous information is inaccurate. Just so you know.

Today my eyes are turning and my ears are screaming. I don’t think one has anything to do with the other, but they are both extremely annoying. That isn’t a complaint, just a fact. I don’t complain because the ringing in my ears gives me an excuse to drink heavily. I don’t do that, but it gives me an excuse if I ever decide I want to.

I’m in trouble again. Diane found the stocking holder that a broke. It’s a stocking holder for Christmas stockings, in case you didn’t relate. I broke it in a good way, actually, because it tipped off the mantel because it was too heavy with all the stuff I put in Diane’s stocking. It was a cute little snowman in a red hat with a fluffy white ball, and he was holding a red bird in his left hand. Now it’s just a cute little snowman with no fluffy white ball on his had, and no bird in his hand. When I broke it I just put the pieces next to it. I went for 9 days without being in trouble until she found it. I knew she would. So, now I have a new project.

Christmas is officially over at our house, now because I took the lights off the roof and the upper porch. I even put them all away. And, I straightened up all the Christmas stuff in the basement, too. That amazed Diane because I did it all while she was gone for an hour. She couldn’t believe that I actually got that much done in such a short time. Heck, I was even sweating when she got home so I don’t understand that. I don’t sweat very often. Except when I climb stairs. Or walk really fast.

I hope everyone is enjoying a great start to their last year on Earth. Remember, 12.21.12 is looming large on everyone’s horizon.

Happy 2012!

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Greetings Fellow Earthlings.
As most of you probably already know, this is the year the world ends. It has to because the Mayan calendar stops functioning on December 21st. To my knowledge, no one has any idea what happens when a calendar stops functioning. Maybe nothing, and that’s a double edged sword if ever there was one. Nothing, as in nothing works any more, or Nothing, as in … well, nothing happens. It’s going to be interesting to see what’s at the end of that calendar.

This morning we awoke to a bright, sunny day here in Seaside. It was absolutely beautiful all day long. We walked from one end of the boardwalk to the other, and back. Almost 4 miles in all. it was a nice, easy walk. No hills and no stairs. We were pleasantly worn out by the trek.

After resting for a while we went back to the boardwalk to watch the sunset, the first one of this year. It was gorgeous. Not as pretty as Hawaii, but still very nice. I took a picture to prove it, but it’s still in the camera so I can’t show it to you.

After the sunset we stopped by Norma’s for a terrific dinner. We thought about going to a movies, but it took us too long to eat so we just went back to the room to savor the day.

I told you about Ruth yesterday. Today I met Don, her husband. He was a career Marine so we had a terrific conversation. A lot of it was about how handy it was for Marines to have the navy around to give them rides to various places in the world. He’s been retired for 13 years so I’m older and wiser than he is. Plus, I was in the Navy. I didn’t, of course, point that out to him. Nice guy.

Now, about the end of the world … anyone have any thoughts about what we’ll be looking at on 12/22/12? I think that’s the day all the planets align and their combined gravitational pull will suck all the water to one side of the earth causing a lot of distress for pretty much everyone. But, that’s just me.