wind and its effects

Very windy out here, and so cold. How could it have been so sunny and warm over the weekend and then so chilly for a few days? Hard to keep up. Wear shorts? Wear parkas? Wear both and hope it evens out? One never knows.

The gardeners are watering the lawns outside, because that is what they do on a Tuesday in spring through fall. But the wind is howling. So how much lawn is getting watered? Not much. But at least the cars and houses and streets are getting washed…! Pour some more water down the drains, friends…This seems to me a classic example of bad management — because it’s Tuesday, it must be meatloaf. Or Rome. When it windy, can’t we pull weeds or aerate the lawn or mow something? Trim the hedge? Must we waste copious amounts of (precious fresh) water and still not get the job done? The lawns go thirsty (that we even have lawns is a whole different topic and another bad management issue, but we’ll leave that for another day). But tick it off the list. Tuesday, watering. Done! Regardless of actual results achieved.

Who’s got her crabbypants on? Um. Hmm.

Good news: the lawn tix (lawn!!!) for Jimmy Buffett in October at the Shoreline have been purchased. Want to join us? Buy them now, online, today. They’ll go fast. Parrotheads don’t waste any time. We’ll have a pre-party in the parking lot or nearby hotel room, most likely. Wear your beach gear, and hope it’s warm. Shoreline in October? Not likely. OK, so wear your parka over your grass skirt and coconut bra.

The kittens caught a mouse yesterday. All three of them together. Teamwork! They all took turns licking it, tossing it and losing it to the others. We were so disgusted, watching from the window. Good for them. It’s what comes naturally. But I can’t watch — yuk. Later, they were huddled around my seed basket, which I keep on the patio with all the various veggie seeds and flower seeds, garden gloves, etc, to keep them handy. Something was up. I put on gloves and started pulling items out of the basket. Until EEK. There at the bottom was their little dead mouse friend.

“Bad kitties! Bad! Don’t put your dead mousie in Mommy’s garden basket!” I took the basket out onto the empty space behind the house and tossed the mousie far away. Eeeeew. Yuk. It made my skin crawl. Poor mouse. It wasn’t its fault it was a mouse or in the wrong place at the wrong time, or that the kittens buried it in my basket. But still. It made me squeal. Dead or alive, I’m not a big mouse fan. They can go live happily over there. But stay away from me, and my food.

I’m having trouble typing with a kitten (Norma Jean) on my lap (it was two, but Ophelia got mad and stalked away). Now I’m being licked. Makes me wonder about the mouse germs. Ack.

We are set to cover the Governator Wednesday, and today we’ll kick booty and get the rest of the paper done. My women’s group meets tonight in Hayward; I am begging a ride because (a) it saves gas, (b) it’s smart to carpool, and (c) I had a flat tire yesterday from a nail I apparently drove over, and AAA put on the donut tire, so I don’t want to drive to Hayward til I buy a new tire. So there you go.

Happy Tuesday, all.

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