It's funny how things come in threes in my family. The phenomenon pops up in any combination of me, my sister, my mom, and my dad.

For example, both my parents and my sister were gifted with artistic abilities. Mom and Dad could draw. My sister, Sharon, has her own artwork all over her wall.

Then there's the whole "love of coffee" thing, bestowed upon me, my sister, and my mother.

And THEN there's the snake thing. I don't even like writing that. But it's a thing. My dad, my mom, me? TERRIFIED of snakes. My sister has no problems with them at all because they eat mice and rats. It's one of those "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" deals. Well, she was always first in line to let Joe Ford put a snake on her at the museum when she was a kid.

I hate snakes. And I'd like to say my life has been free of encounters with them, but no. I've had two such occasions and both of them happened out in New Mexico--a FUN place to be unless you happen upon a snake.

At least, in the American Southwest, you EXPECT to find snakes.

You don't really think that will happen when you open your breaker box. But that's what DID happen to my sister's friend Jane's husband.

Their breaker kept tripping, so he pulled the box out and opened it, only to find a freshly dead snake coiled up inside.

Jane Dannheiser Troutman

Jane told me that MICE had chewed up a wire and the serpent got electrocuted.

And by the way, that snake was nearly four feet long. NO THANK YOU.

Jane Dannheiser Troutman

Jane says the only left now is some rewiring and a funeral for the snake.

Meanwhile, there are mice somewhere rubbing their little hands together and chanting, "Revenge is a dish best served cold."

Even in July.

Snakes in Kentucky