I Am the Weather
…. you’d better take shelter.
In December 2022, Ryan and I were knocked down … and dragged out… with a gnarly case of the good old fashioned flu.
Now, these were the days when the tracers of the Covid 19 Pandemic still permeated society’s every move. We, as a society, had all been traumatized. Nervous systems had been fried and mutual trust in our fellow man/woman frayed. Signs of illness were still met with glares. A cough signaled something more nefarious than a case of the sniffles that some sprite and saltine crackers could remedy.
We performed our societal duty and tested… again and again.. for the Corona Virus. Again and again it turned up negative.
As it turns out… we had something that had become somewhat vintage in 2023. Dare I say antique?
The flu. A really bad strain of influenza.
Laid up on our couches - coughing, fatigued, bewildered and pitiful… the illness would not loosen it’s grip on us.
Work… cancelled.
Christmas… cancelled.
Trip to New Orleans with my girlfriends for New Years Eve… cancelled.
We were barely functioning, taking turns shuffling into the local pharmacy on occasion for provisions; Hurrying back home to crawl back under blankets and our pile of dogs.
10 days.
I refuse to have a television. So, nothing was binged over 10 days. I may have read a bit between delirious naps. Ryan tinkered on guitars or retreated to the cabin on the ranch (Man Camp, as we called it) so that he could ride out influenza like a normal person… watching marathon episodes of M.A.S.H. on basic tv.
I had only one thing to look forward to over the miserable minutes and hours that made their way across my timeline like molasses.
And that thing was Theraflu!
Lemon and Honey Theraflu, to be more specific.
Now, I’m Irish… and American… and stubborn… and I don’t tend to read instructions or directions of any sort.
I prefer to “feeeeeeel” my way through life.
And so, I felt my way in and out of a 10 day long Theraflu dream. Cup after cup after warm and toasty cup. I’d cradle my favorite mug in my hands… inhaling the dreamy chemical scents of lemon and sipping on the local honey I’d added “to be healthy”.
After day 5, or so, I was growing bored and weary of my routine of hot cups of Theraflu balanced by cool glasses of water, for hydration. Little piles of Kleenex tissue were like snow accumlated on our icy hardwood floors. My elderly dogs stretched and groaned around me on the couch, content with our quality time together.
It was time to add some red wine into the mix.
I’d been “good” for too long, and I was downright bored, and if I’m gonna lay around might as well enjoy myself, and I deserve it, and what could it hurt, and I’m missing my girls’ trip which is utterly unfair, and it’s the holidays
and
and
and.
Pinot noir.
And… so began the infamous 5 day Theraflu / Red Wine living room garden party-of-one.
I hadn’t bathed, but no one knew! My hair had become medusa’s snake nest. I spoke “Dog” now.
A mile away at the ranch house, Ryan was on his own island. Watching wrestling on TV and using an outdoor patio propane heater to warm the INSIDE of the cabin. Meanwhile, I tip-toed across the artic floor of our tiny house in town, making my way to the kitchen for Theraflu and Pinot Noir refills.
A smattering of cigar box guitars were leaned and laid around me. Yellow legal pads and pens. Guitar tuners. Phone charger. Chapstick.
Kleenex.
Did I mention the kleenex?
Pillow and blankets.
Our pitiful Christmas tree, affectionately named “Sergeant T. Christmas” was lit up like… well… a Christmas tree… making the miniature living room somewhat festive. (We still have Sergeant T)
The bitter-cold Texas air fogged up the windows giving it a genuine wintery feel.
My voice was ragged from all of the coughing. Gravely… but not in the good way. My spirit was low… but loose - what with all the red wine.
As I waxed and waned between bleary sleep and moments of lucidity… I would capture brief voice memos on my phone. I would spring from little fever dreams with song ideas. A delirium tremens of carousel music with guitar-distortion in my head: pink elephants and chartreuse alligators.
Voice Memos
New Recording 255 - Dec 22, 2022 - 0:11 seconds - a feeble voice mumbles,
“I am the weather. You’d better take shelter.”
Slowly… very slowly… but surely… our respective conditions improved. We emerged from our chosen hovels. The Kleenex was cleaned up. I vacuumed and sprayed Clorox Bleach on all surfaces. Blankets were washed. Pillows uprighted. The merciful Texas sun came out … as it will do in January… and blessed us with some 70 degree days. The house plants and Sergeant T. Christmas were returned to our charming, small town front porch.
Neighbors waved.
Happy New Year!
2023.
I returned to work at the Barbershop.
My girlfriends returned from New Orleans, nauseous from all the fresh oysters and bubbling champagne. They brought me sweet gifts of condolences and pity.
No longer contagious, at last, Ryan and I both walked with a cruel pneumonia-induced cough for months. We were shadows of ourselves until Spring.
It would be about a month later that I work out the little guitar riff that would become the music to go along with the words in that helpless voice memo. One chord, driving and hypnotic rhythm. Almost relentless. Like sideways rain hitting a windshield.
“She drinks red wine
Codeine
She’s mixing them together
She says,
I am the weather.
You’d better take shelter.
If you’re gonna get beat by me…
better make it worth my leather.”
It would be another 2 years before it was recorded.
Then, another year before it would be released.
That song - conjured from a spinning roulette wheel of boredom, delirium, rare free time, creativity and borderline madness. Just a little diddy about a young woman who likes to mix cough syrup with red wine… and the havoc that ensues.
Dec 9th, 2025 - “I Am The Weather” hit the airwaves. The first single from the collection of songs that will be the “Low and Slow” album - (for release Feb 2026).