Sunday Monsoon Blogging

5cf1bb17b99a5.imageThe first monsoon rain hit just after sunset yesterday. “Monsoon” is a relative term; in southern Arizona it means summertime thunderstorms, an everyday event in most places but a momentous and welcome one here in the desert.

Friends tell us parts of Tucson got a lot of rain and wind; I think we must have been on the edge of the storm, but the wind did blow empty cardboard boxes into our pool, which’ll teach us not to leave stuff laying around on the patio. At one point I opened the front door and there was a little house sparrow taking shelter on the welcome mat under the porch. The fact that it didn’t move when I stood looming over it in the doorway told me this was its first storm and it was more frightened of it than of me, so I left it alone and went back inside. I took a peek an hour later and it was gone. When I went outside this morning at 7 AM, everything smelled fresh and clean. Here’s to a good monsoon season. May it rain and rain!

Note to self: be careful what you wish for. Flash floods are no laughing matter, and they are definitely part of the southern Arizona monsoon experience.

For those of you following the Bighorn fire burning on the northern side of the Catalinas a few miles from here, recent mountain rains have definitely helped. The fire is still burning in places but is 85% contained. Residents of the mountaintop ski village have been allowed back into their homes, and we can no longer see smoke on our side of the Catalinas.

Mister B’s still under the weather, somewhat improved and a little more perky than he has been. We have another follow-on animal hospital visit this Thursday; we’ll probably have him tested for Valley Fever again while we’re there. Keep beaming those healing rays in his direction, okay?

C1ED1C41-D5BF-405A-8742-51BEBBAA55DD_1_201_aHome confinement turns out to have been the excuse I needed to quit shaving. I’ve probably never been as unpresentable as I am now. I look like an old orange that’s starting to sprout hairy gray mold.

One of Donna’s embroidery clients came over to the house a few days ago to pick up an order; he showed up maskless and wanted to shake hands; we both pointedly kept our hands to ourselves and stepped away from him when he tried to get close to us. Jesus, people, what does it take to get you out of denial?

See, this is why I’m so damn mad at the network game shows, whose producers promised to tape without live audiences back in February but to date are still airing pre-recorded episodes with clapping and cheering crowds. These enormously popular shows could be helping, but out of fear of losing ratings have chosen instead to comfort their fans with the fantasy of a coronavirus-free world. I bet Donna’s client watches Wheel of Fortune and thinks everything is just as it was before, in what already seems like another age.

Generally, though, when it comes to outrage blogging, these days I’m content to let others preach to the choir. I’ll just say I’m not the least surprised by anything Trump does; it was all predictable and no one can say we weren’t warned. Joe Biden, I sure hope you’re healthier than you appear to be from certain angles in photos and on TV, and are able to campaign vigorously. And god damn it, will you get off the pot and announce your running mate already? Because she’s going to be our Plan B if you crap out on us!

© 2020, Paul Woodford. All rights reserved.

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