My darling Hubs is a nerd. There, I said it. His hobbies include star gazing (check out his GIANT telescope…) and weather wonking. In fact, I don’t know if there is really such a thing as a weather woody, but if there is, he gets them. He is actually a CERTIFIED storm spotter, with an assigned number that lets him officially observe, assess and report his weather findings. Before you get too impressed, this just means he took a class and can now call into television stations or (trumpet music) the National Weather Service and report his weather observations, using his secret code number so they know he is official.

What this means unofficially is that as storm clouds roll in and things get dicey outside, while most (intelligent) people scamper indoors, he runs out. You can image the marital conversations this habit elicits.

Yesterday afternoon a storm was brewing…

…nuggets.

Does that mean I’m going to cluck like a chicken now?  Feel the urge to move my head back and forth while walking, &  moving my arms wing like?  I suppose it won’t be long before I stop to claw the ground.

As long as I don’t lay any eggs.  I draw the line there.

So, for fun, I google “walk like a chicken contest.”  (cuz, you know, I’m curious if there’s a cool video to attach to my post.)  Oh my GAWD…And came across this beauty.  I swear, I challenge you not to laugh.  This guy has it down