I survived Snowmaggedon

Hello nurse! As I sit down to write this, we have just survived the Snowmaggedon 2021, or the Snowpocalypse — whatever you wanna call it, it was a pain in the ass. Between my gas bill, my water bill and the jacked-way-up price of the little electricity we got, next month’s bills are going to ass rape me with no lube. And not in the good way.
We actually had it way better than most people; we only lost power for about 60 hours. Luckily, my sweet husband installed a gas fireplace about eight years ago, and it was a lifesaver. Those of you without even a gas stove, I don’t know how you did it. I’m not sure how cold a witch’s tit is, exactly, but I think it was close.

I want to say thank you for all the people checking to see how Ruby, our 125-pound tortoise, has done with the electricity turned off. To be honest, it was very worrisome. The first night, when the power went out at 2:45 a.m., we put a portable propane heater in the greenhouse with her. Usually she sits under a heating lamp and stays content until it warms up enough for her to come outside. We have a remote temperature gauge that tells us what the temperature is in the greenhouse at all times. But bitch, we ain’t ever had to deal with 5-degree weather and no electricity before!

The propane heater scares me. It just produces heat with no real regulation to shut off if it gets too hot or tell you when the propane runs out. So we were constantly having to check the temperature every 30 minutes or so — fuck even trying to sleep.

Finally we decided to bring her into the house and let her sit by the gas stove in the kitchen. That was a chore and a half. Ruby is a big bitch and does not like to be picked up. She kicks like a donkey and can really be difficult when she wants to be.

Oh and FYI, Ruby is actually a Rudy; we named her before we knew the gender. But with the gender norms being questioned everywhere, we thought it was fitting for Ruby to just be Ruby. Oh, and Ruby is also a giant for her age. She’s more tank than tortoise.

I love my Ruby, so I was very worried about her. It took the brute strength of my Superman and a wheelbarrow to get her inside. Luckily, she didn’t fight us. I think she knew we were trying to help her.

She has been in our kitchen all week. I wanted to wait until we were past the freezing temperatures and were sure the electricity would stay on before we put her back in her house. We were extremely fortunate that she never, you know, pooped in the house. She pissed one day, like a freakin’ racehorse, but I had towels down in anticipation of the grossness.

The moment she was outside in the sun, she let it out. The sun for her is like Metamucil for me. Let’s just say I am thankful to have her back outside where she belongs. One of the days she was inside she decided to play drums on my pantry door and just keep banging up against it. I don’t know if you know this, but tortoises are stubborn as hell and just don’t listen.

Ruby came through fine, but I am sad to say we lost every plant we had in the greenhouse. It’s a graveyard now. I’m still hopeful that maybe some of them will sprout again from the roots.

Something else I learned during the Texas grid failure of 2021 is the meaning of the saying “three-dog night.” It’s not just a band name; it means it’s so cold you gotta sleep with three dogs on you to stay warm. I normally have a five-dog night. Those little beauties really came in handy during this mess.

I don’t know about the rest of you doggie daddies (or mamas), but we have two little ones that refuse to even step outside if they see snow. There was a whole lotta nopes at our house last week. One of them would actually make it all the way to the welcome mat before he peed or pooped. I guess he figured, “The porch is outside, so I’m good right?” Yes, you little fucker, you are good.

On a lighter note, Saturday, Feb. 27, is MY BIRTHDAY!!! AIR HORN BLAST! I’m not sure how to spell BUURRRMM BURRRMM BUUURRRMM!

I will be 49 years old. It is so weird to think of being this old. I remember being in my 20s and thinking, “Oh my Gawd! 50 years old is soooo old!” Well, I am a year away from 50, and I don’t feel that old. Sure the wrinkles and the aches say otherwise, but I am thankful for all of it. I know a lot of people that didn’t make it to 49, so I’m grateful I am still here and still fabulous!

I remember my 22nd birthday: I was doing a show at a little bar called The Anchor Inn. I got so drunk that I ended up emceeing the end of the show in just my pads — no wig, no dress, just a dance belt that looked like really tight panties.

It was not my finest moment, but I did learn one thing: Grand Marnier is the devil. Even thinking about it now I want to throw up. We all have that one liquor that we will never touch again because of the time it made you projectile vomit. Mine is that bougie, orange-flavored death juice. What was yours?

They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger? Well, after 2020 and the bullshit 2021 has brought us, we should all be superheroes.

Stay strong beautiful people. Remember to always love more, bitch less and be fabulous. XOXO, Cassie Nova