God charts the road you take.
…That every time it seems like spring is really here, clouds roll in, the temperature drops, and we spend another three days with February weather? I don’t mind rain. We live in Seattle, for Pete’s sake! We expect and accept that it will be dark and rainy from November through March. But it’s not March; it’s not even April. It’s MID-MAY, but the weather hasn’t gotten the memo yet. The Seattle Times just reported that last Wednesday set a record for the lowest high temperature (51°F) ever on that date. Cliff Mass has a depressing post on the area’s BBQ Index.
…That I’m not excited about tomorrow’s RTS ride? It’s just shy of 80 miles, and about 4200 feet of climbing. I know that at the end I’ll feel tired but satisfied. I think I’m not excited because (a) It’s a 40% chance of rain tomorrow — low enough to leave off the fenders, but not so low I’ll omit a jacket; and (b) For reasons I’ve mentioned before, I’m not wild about the RTS crowd. The usual Earthdream crew shows up, and I know, like, and — most importantly — trust most of them. But then all those other fast people I don’t know and trust… Meh.
…That no books have caught my interest lately? I’m re-reading the Chronicles of Narnia, and C.S. Lewis is a guaranteed high-class read, but in general I look at our bookshelves or go to the library and think, “Meh.” Just finished The Year of the Flood, by Margaret Atwood, and although Atwood is an excellent author and the story was compelling (I read it in 24 hours), I finished with a feeling of disinterest. I need something really excellent, and preferably more than 500 pages long, to occupy me for a good chunk of time.
…That the people who previously owned our house put that garden fabric stuff EVERYWHERE and then topped it with beauty bark? And why is it called “beauty bark” anyway? I’d go with “gives you splinters every time you look at it bark” or “pain in the neck bark” or “beautiful for about 1 week bark” — not just straight beauty bark. Anyway, this fabric-and-beauty bark propensity (which does decrease weeds) means that I had to do some interesting clearing out of garden space to plant the sprouting potatoes Louise gave me. I don’t know the first thing about growing potatoes; I just dug a spot and plopped them in and covered them up again. We’ll see what happens. It’s like that bean sprout experiment we all did as kids.