Apres moi . . .

An interesting day.

I have become inordinately fond of snow peas.  And yes, I know that some of you will tell me: the kind that grow on actual plants coming out of the ground at your house are FAR better than the kind you buy in packages at Sam’s Club.  And I know that.  I do.  And I love a garden.  I love to see a garden.  And I love the idea of them.  I know there are people who just can’t wait to get out there in the garden and work.  But you’d have to be outside in the sun to do it.  And there’s all that dirt.

Further interesting points: today teaches us that you don’t have to travel to exotic places for excitement.  We had our own little oil spill up north here today, evidently. A pipe belonging to Chevron broke and started belching crude into several of the civilized and populated creeks in the city.  People are pretty ticked.  I heard one man at the press conference, going after the Chevron guy:  “You ARE going to clean it up completely? You ARE going to foot the bill?”  And the Chevron guy gave his word that they would.  But the guy asking the questions didn’t go far enough.  He might have said: you ARE going to take this money out of your profits, right?  And you AREN’T going to kick up the price at the pump here to cover it?  (We are already one of the highest priced states for gasoline as it is.)

Here it is the 12^th of June.  It was 54 degrees at the barn at four o’clock (at least, I think it was – almost too dark to read the meter), and it was raining like this time the Lord only had one day to flood the earth instead of forty. An actual deluge. Gutters have developed actual tidal systems. The arena has more standing water in it than we’ve had, even on the almost worst irrigation days.  Pools and rivers everywhere.  Now I know what it’s like to live in Seattle. At least we’re very green for a change.

I have no pictures of all of this  Frankly, the whole weather situation as been so dreary, the images just wouldn’t be worth the download and process time. Still, all this does make for comfortable sleeping.

M comes home in ten days.  I know it because my sister started a campaign to keep my mind from exploding: she emails me every day with the countdown and gives me an assignment to do – something physical or spiritual.  It’s the coolest thing ever.

It struck me this morning when I was counting just how many days were left: here I was thinking, “But how can I possibly wait ten more days?  How do you do that?”  When I have just waited two years.  The odd thing is that the two periods of time really don’t feel any different; ten days is just as darn long.