We've had rain of biblical proportions here and our little sleepy river decided a few days ago to rise about five feet to do it's impression of the Mississippi, leaping over its banks and flooding everything in sight.

This would, of course, include the road I need to travel to get out of the valley. Yesterday being the only day in the long term forecast without rain, I figured that if I was going to get food, I'd better see if I could motor out.

So I drove to the flooded section of the road and I guessed the water was about eight inches deep. The Marnmobile doesn't have a big plenty of clearance, but I figured I could just make it through if I was careful.

Now, here are the reasons why it's incredibly stupid to drive over a road that's been flooded for over 12 hours:

1) The river current may have scoured away all the soil under the road and all you may be looking at is a shelf of asphalt which will collapse the minute your car goes on it, sweeping you off to a watery death

2) Your vehicle will hydroplane as you're driving in that much water, which means your tires won't be in full contact with the road. If there is a current, you will be swept off in it to a watery death.

3) If you don't have enough clearance the water will kill your engine. The flooded section of the road was near a blind curve and if someone came around that corner too fast they could smack my stalled vehicle and push me into the current, where I would be swept off to a watery death.

Yes, today's happy fun theme seems to be watery death.

Here are the reasons I figured it was safe for me to drive over that road:

1) The milk truck had been through a few hours earlier and if the road could support that kind of weight, it could support the Marnmobile.

2) No visible current, so no worries for when my car was hydroplaning

3) I just assumed no one else would want to cross into a flooded out dead-end road, so I wouldn't meet any traffic coming towards me.

I think we can all agree that my reasoning proves yet again that I swim in the shallow section of the gene pool and if any culling by watery death is necessary, well, it should be me.

Since I am writing this, you know I made it through. And had I had the brains to wait about three hours (the time I got home from running all my errands) then I would have driven over bare road, because the water had receded that far.

Still, where's the fun in that, eh?

(This would be my friend, Jeannie, who graciously agreed to pose by the flooded road. All Canadians assume the stork position when asked to pose by water. It's a national custom, eh.)

All that water got me thinking about fish. We're having friends up for supper on Saturday, and I decided fish it would be so off I went on my quest for finny goodness. As you can well imagine, I felt bliss, thrills and a couple of raptures when I saw my favourite fish, shark, laid out tastefully on a tray of ice.

I have a really hard time controlling myself when I buy shark because I want to point at it and make that little menacing theme sound from "Jaws" you know? This would not alarm the people who know me, because they understand the depths of my silliness.

However, I figured the sweet young 20-something clerk at the Loblaws store didn't need the spectacle of a 50-something white haired woman pointing at shark filets and making odd semi-musical sounds, so I restrained myself.

Barely.

As I write this, the skies are beginning to cloud over. If the weather forecast is right, we're in for another four or five days of rain. Paul and I, being a quarter mile uphill, are fine. We can hunker down and wait it out. But the home farm where he grew up isn't far from the river. The last crest had the water about 20 feet from my mom-in-law's place. Hard to know what's in store for that beautiful 150-year-old farmhouse if the soaked land around here is pelted with more rain.

So if you have a few spare moments, send some sunny thoughts our way.

I think we need them.

--Marn