The World is my Banana Peel
The day after my last post? End of the ice age? My street looked like this. I was able to ride my bike (my old regular bike -- I needed the bigger wheels) along the ruts in the slush, getting off to walk in some areas, like going around corners.
But the next day, Sunday, I was able to ride the Brompie -- for the first time in about ten days! Oregon was back to its messy, mossy, greeny self. This is what the real Oregon looks like. I took this picture on the way to the MAX station, for which, as you can see below, I missed the train. Here's the Bromp on the MAX platform with the last vestiges of snow visible in the background. (Does snow come in vestiges? I'm not sure.)
It is two AM on Friday. I'm supposed to go to work tomorrow, not to mention start my (our) 6:30 AM 2009 workout plan. (quit laughing.) We sleep upstairs, under two skylights, where you hear the rain so loud that you feel like you're right IN it except without getting wet or cold. We love listening to it. On this particular night, however, I'm lying there thinking, "Man that is the loudest darned rain I've ever heard! What is going on? Have they opened up every drain in heaven? Are we going to have to build an ark?"
Finally I gave up on trying to sleep. Usually I find the sound to be soothing, but not this time. I got up and came downstairs. I got the rest of my ginger beer out of the fridge, slapped out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and turned on my computer -- which by the way are the three things the insomnia brochures tell you not to do if you want to have any hope of getting back to sleep within the ensuing twelve hours. I plunged into the quicksand of my newest addiction, namely Ask Sister Mary Martha, and began combing throught the archives. After about an hour of this I got up to use the lieu and happened to get a look out the back door of the house, and... AAaaaack! It's all WHITE OUT THERE!!
NOOOoooooooo! Stop it!
No wonder it was so loud! That must've been ice or hail coming down! I just got up and looked out again. Now it's out there snowing innocently, big fat picturesque flakes, like a harmless snowglobe from the souvenir shop. Pretending it didn't just lay down a deadly layer of ice over a city full of small drainclog lakes from four days of torrential rain. And now it's covering it all up to fool us into stepping out of our houses.
I for one will not be fooled, and I'll have no part of it. It had better be gone by morning or I'm going out there with a blow torch.