Rain Rain
Judging by the number of emails I mis-sign that way, I'm starting to think that M<att might be a decent visual representation of my name. I don't know if it indicates that the M is eating the att, or if the att has a greater value than the M, but there's gotta be some sort of logic to it.
Today was the second sunny day in a row. The weather report indicates that most of this week will be sunny. Perhaps the rainy season is nearly over? I have my fingers crossed. It seems weird to see the sun come out right before Christmas anyway. As a kid I used to pray for a white Christmas, and now I want a clear-skied one. I guess it all depends on your perspective.
From a more general point of view, I was thinking this morning about the rain, as I looked at the percentage probability of precipitation indicator on the next week's long term forecast and trying to make mental bets for each day whether a 40% would translate into a Yes or No. I remember, when growing up in dry-as-a-cotton-boll Lubbock, TX, I'd watch the weather each night, and if a day the next week showed over a 30% or so chance of rain, I'd hope with all my might that it might be true.
Somewhat embarrassing to admit (if I haven't already), I even devised an informal sort of rain ritual that I'd go through on the roof of my house. There was a triangular cubbyhole tucked between the wall of the second story, the bricks of the chimney, and the steep slope of the garage roof, and this spot, besides being a great place to take refuge from the crazy junior high world of fashion police, first crushes, and frog dissections also caught my attention because it seemed to have evaded the notice of the roofers when cleaning up their work. As such, there was a perplexing array of bent and mangled nails lodged into various parts of the roof and outside wall.
One afternoon after school, I'd taken a schoolbook up there, and, taking a break from my reading, started to become annoyed by the heat, and started absentmindedly wishing for rain and toying with the various protruding bent nails, twisting them in their spots like knobs and levers, when, out of nowhere, a light rain shower opened up out of previously non-existent (or at least invisible) clouds — Texas weather is like that.
Against my well-developed notions of reality, I wondered for a long time whether there was anything to the coincidence, and on subsequent hot and dry days for the next couple of years would sometimes repeat the routine of nail twists. It never worked, but I figured it couldn't really hurt either, and at least made me feel like I was doing something about it.
It was a great perspective to keep in mind for the rainy weather here.
I think as a kid I would have denied the existence of such a place, if someone had tried to describe it to me. "All that, and it rains there, too? You're kidding."
Today was the second sunny day in a row. The weather report indicates that most of this week will be sunny. Perhaps the rainy season is nearly over? I have my fingers crossed. It seems weird to see the sun come out right before Christmas anyway. As a kid I used to pray for a white Christmas, and now I want a clear-skied one. I guess it all depends on your perspective.
From a more general point of view, I was thinking this morning about the rain, as I looked at the percentage probability of precipitation indicator on the next week's long term forecast and trying to make mental bets for each day whether a 40% would translate into a Yes or No. I remember, when growing up in dry-as-a-cotton-boll Lubbock, TX, I'd watch the weather each night, and if a day the next week showed over a 30% or so chance of rain, I'd hope with all my might that it might be true.
Somewhat embarrassing to admit (if I haven't already), I even devised an informal sort of rain ritual that I'd go through on the roof of my house. There was a triangular cubbyhole tucked between the wall of the second story, the bricks of the chimney, and the steep slope of the garage roof, and this spot, besides being a great place to take refuge from the crazy junior high world of fashion police, first crushes, and frog dissections also caught my attention because it seemed to have evaded the notice of the roofers when cleaning up their work. As such, there was a perplexing array of bent and mangled nails lodged into various parts of the roof and outside wall.
One afternoon after school, I'd taken a schoolbook up there, and, taking a break from my reading, started to become annoyed by the heat, and started absentmindedly wishing for rain and toying with the various protruding bent nails, twisting them in their spots like knobs and levers, when, out of nowhere, a light rain shower opened up out of previously non-existent (or at least invisible) clouds — Texas weather is like that.
Against my well-developed notions of reality, I wondered for a long time whether there was anything to the coincidence, and on subsequent hot and dry days for the next couple of years would sometimes repeat the routine of nail twists. It never worked, but I figured it couldn't really hurt either, and at least made me feel like I was doing something about it.
It was a great perspective to keep in mind for the rainy weather here.
I think as a kid I would have denied the existence of such a place, if someone had tried to describe it to me. "All that, and it rains there, too? You're kidding."