April 10th, 2008

ozarque figure

I'm even older than usual this morning...

Usually, when I wake up in the morning, I'm seventy-one. Today, however, my estimate would be that I'm at least ninety-one, all frail and trembly and bent over and peaked and snarly. [That's "PEAK-ed," with two syllables, Ozark for "pale and pitiful"; it doesn't mean that my head is shaped like a peaked roof this morning. So far, anyway.) I am not fit company for even the most tolerant of Terrans. George, ordinarily seventy-two, is in even worse shape. Because....

Because last night was so cottonpicking exciting at our place. Not quite as exciting as it was a bit south of us, where they had downpours of huge hailstones and people had to spend the night with no windows in their houses or their cars or their trucks; not quite as exciting as it was where the tornados zapped Oklahoma and Texas; not quite as exciting as it must be for all those thousands of stranded airline passengers out there, for whom my heart aches; but more than exciting enough.

Sleeping was out of the question. We had one whopping thunderstorm after another, nonstop, from early evening until nine o'clock this morning. The racket from wind, rain, and hail (very small hail here, fortunately), plus the racket from things blowing around in the wind, plus the alarms on our computer backup power systems going off over and over again, was humungous. This was Big Continuous Racket. You could doze once in a while for a few minutes, but no more than that. Five inches of rain in the rain gauge this morning.

Our little dog usually gets taken out first thing in the morning, but not this morning; it just wasn't possible. So she spent a miserable hour waiting, until George finally seized an opportunity between two huge thunderclaps and -- in what I considered to be a sort of awe-inspiring Superman Moment -- got her outside for the necessary thirty seconds.

[Why, you want to know, can't she just go outside by herself, like other dogs? Because she is a tasty little white Maltese morsel, just the right size and shape for our hawks and coyotes and other miscellaneous predators. She wouldn't last thirty seconds outside, especially outside in the dark.]

I think my mind is still functioning properly -- I am still fascinated by the presidential primary saga, still baffled by Senator Clinton's recent behavior, still able to type, still can speak both English and French, and was able to use the stormy time this morning sorting the stacks of material for my May/June newsletters. All good signs. On the other hand, if my mind had gone with the wind, I would probably be the last to know.

Tomorrow, if the weather people are telling the truth and tonight is not going to be a repeat of last night, my plan is to start a new discussion here, on some Gripping Topic -- if only to demonstrate that my mind does still function. If you would like to suggest what that Gripping Topic should be, I'd welcome your suggestions. Just be gentle, please.