After yesterday's mild wind storm, today we're suffering a deluge. I have no way to know how much rain has fallen in the past twelve hours, but I suspect the scientific answer is a lot. Today's rain is heavy and wet and constant, which is unusual. Typical Oregon rain is light and misty and fleeting.
I have fond recollections of bus rides home from school spent staring out at the seasonal marshes and swamps that formed in the pastures and fields around Canby. It's a bit early for them, but they're still a welcome sight. They make me feel at home.
The gutters here at the shop have flooded, and Jeff is outside trying to clear them. Puddles are everywhere. I was soaked simply walking from my car to the grocery store earlier this morning. I'm curious to see Tiffany's reaction to a wet Oregon winter. She's spent most of her life in southern California, and this weather may prove a burden for her.
In general, I am disdainful of people who use umbrellas in Portland. Not today. Today you have may use an umbrella with my blessing.
I drove to Hillsboro yesterday to deliver some samples. On Farmington road leaving Beaverton, I was stuck behind a black VW Jetta that was all over the road. The driver drifted into a tree-filled concrete median. He drifted into the neighboring lane. He drifted into oncoming traffic.
"This guy is lucky," I thought. "If there'd been any traffic, he'd have caused an accident."
I increased my following distance and kept an eye on the car. I jotted down the license plate. "The idiot is probably jabbering on a cell phone," I thought, "Or drunk. And it's only eleven o'clock."
I followed the Jetta for a couple of miles. I frowned at the driver and stared daggers into the back of his head. Then, at a stoplight, I was startled to see two kittens jump into the back window, chasing each other around the car. A third kitten followed close behind.
At the next stop light, I looked more carefully inside the Jetta. There was a kitten on the driver's shoulders, and one on his lap, standing at the steering wheel. Another kitten was leaping around from seat-to-seat. My anger faded. Suddenly the erratic driving made sense. I, too, would drive like an idiot if my car were full of kittens. In fact, at that moment, I felt an urge to roll down my window and ask the other driver if I could have one of his. The urge passed quickly when I remembered my poor track record with cats in cars. (Most journeys have involved urine.)
On this day at foldedspace.org
2006 — A Letter to a Friend (from Simon) In which Simon sends a letter to his friend, Nine, describing his lovely weekend.
2002 — The Lee Shore In which I share a fantastic passage from Moby Dick.