what do we need umbrellas for again?

I woke up this morning to a brilliant, clear sunny sky. But I'd heard all weekend about how it was supposed to rain and on NPR today I heard repeatedly about the severe thunderstorm warnings and watches. I knew it was only a matter of time before the skies let loose.

Now granted, I slept in late this morning, much later than usual. But I'd earned it. So I took my time getting up, drinking my coffee and checking my email, but shortly after lunch the bright light pouring in my window faded. A lot. And I still needed to run to the grocery store a few blocks away.

So I threw on some jeans and a T-shirt, left my hair half dry (not that it would matter), grabbed an umbrella and hurried off to the store. No rain. Maybe one or two drops but that was the entire walk to the store. I figured I could grab the things I needed and hurry back home before the rain started.

Not so much.

I looked out the windows when at the check-out and it poured. Not to the point where visibility was impaired, but it was poured in sheets. But I persevered. I figured with my umbrella, I might make it home fairly dry. It was either that or wait around like a few other people were doing. But who knows how long the storm would have lasted. So I hurried home.

A block from the store was the first of many oceans that formed at the end of the sidewalk with no possible way to jump them without landing in their depths. And these oceans formed in the twenty or so minutes I was inside the store. Amazing. Who wants to work with me to dig drainage systems? Or deeper ones since I know there are a few in my neighborhood.

Needless to say I looked like a drowned rat by the time I got home. My jeans soaked up water from the oceans, along with my shoes and socks. Not to mention that the rain was coming in at an angle, so that the only dry part of my jeans was the part my t-shirt covered. Because my shirt was soaked too so it's hard to say how much longer that dry part would have remained dry. And I had some nice little tablespoons of water in my bags (luckily nothing I bought was ruined by water...except maybe the boxes of my granola bars).

And of course my entire walk home, with my umbrella up and me feeling soaked to the bone, I just have to wonder why I'm even bothering.

sorry!

Yes, I'm still here. Sorry for the silence. Last weekend my internet was down for some strange reason (and yes...it was down for the entire weekend). And then during the week for the last two week the days have been a little crazy.

But, I'm still here. And I've got some ideas for some posts so expect them coming up soon. Just wanted to let you know I haven't forgotten about you!

-Patricia

sometimes a greater appreciation comes with age

I'm reading The Historian right now, by Elizabeth Kostova, and because Dracula plays such an important part, I've been thinking it might be time to reread Stoker's book. By the way, I'm only in the beginning of The Historian, so I can't say how much I like it, but so far I'm enjoying it.

Anyway, it's been a very long time time since I read Dracula. And at the time...I really, really didn't like it. I was bored and having read a lot of Anne Rice, all I can say is that Dracula is definitely no Lestat. I prefer the handsome vampires...not the literal living dead ones. So why bother to reread it? I remember what happens and I remember the trials of getting through it (my apologies, Bram). But I have to wonder if maybe I'll like it now.

Around the same time that I first read Dracula, I also read Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms. I thought I would happy to never have to read another Hemingway in my life. I wasn't a fan of his short, staccatoesque sentences, and I definitely was not a fan in his portrayal of women. His women, I felt, needed a backbone. Of course, this was all formed after one book, but at the time...it was enough.

Then, years later, we read For Whom the Bell Tolls in AP English. And here's the strange thing. I dreaded having to read it, but as it turned out, I loved it. I wondered how on earth I had come into the English assignment with such dread. Anyone who's since seen my bookshelves will see quite a few Hemingway titles. He's now one of my favorite writers, and I've read The Sun Also Rises many times over.

So what's my point? My point is that our tastes change. Maybe getting older and having other reading experiences enabled me to enjoy Hemingway more. I'm sure there are others I've read and then later reread and enjoyed that much more, but Hemingway is the best example that I can think of. So maybe I'll enjoy Bram Stoker more, and be able to look past the physical flaws of the main character (reminding myself, again, that he probably looks pretty good for a centuries old walking corpse).

Maybe I will. I'm sure I kept my copy, though it's probably with the rest of my books...in storage under the stairs in Texas. If I think of it, I'll have to look through them next time I'm there. And speaking of Dracula, maybe I missed something. One quick note, this next comment is going to appear rather random.

I remember being pleasantly surprised by the movie League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. I think the main reason is because I wasn't expecting much from it at all after hearing the reviews. And secondly...it was really kind of a cool idea about having all those characters together. But here's what bothered me...a lot. There's one scene where they're outside on the deck of the sub, and guess who's standing there talking without affect. Mina Harker.

Will someone correct me on this? And again, it's been many years and my mind has since been filled with other pieces of information from other books, but I didn't think Dracula could be out in sunlight. I understand that other vampire authors may allow their creatures to do so, but I didn't think Dracula could. Which would mean Mina wouldn't be able to be in sunlight then either. Laugh all you want, but it bothered me.

Maybe it was just poetic license by the screenwriters, but maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Dracula did walk in sunlight. Anyone remember?

I warned you that last comment was random. But if I ever get back to Dracula, I'll let you know if my opinions on it have changed. In the meantime, read some Hemingway.

small acts of kindness

Living in a large city, such as this one, many of us can easily find something (or some things...ok, several things) to complain about. One of them is construction. I've read many urban blogs complaining about the sidewalk and street closings, the noise, the dust, etc., etc. so I know I'm not alone. Near where I live is one of these wonderful sites of what will be, I'm sure, a wonderful building when it's finished. But it's been going on for essentially the last several years I've lived there.

I've learned to live with it. As have most of the people in this area.

But occasionally there will be one beast of a truck (or, like yesterday, a great big cloud of dust that almost makes you wonder what went wrong) that throws just the slightest crimp in an ordinary day. And today was one such day. I'm not complaining because really, so what? I have to cross the street in the middle of the block instead of at the end. It's happened before and it may even be quicker. Depending on traffic of course.

And this morning there was a little bit more traffic than usual. Maybe that's my fault since I left about 10 minutes later than normal. But when I stepped out and waited for a break in traffic, one of the crew ran over and stepped out, stopping traffic. I figured this was for some large truck backing out and knew enough to hurry across and out of the way, taking advantage of the moment.

But when I crossed the street, I glanced back and there was no truck. And the man had gone back to the others. Did he just...stop traffic for me to get across?

I glanced back several times, looking for the truck that wasn't there and you know what? Even if he didn't do it just to let me cross the street, that's what it looked like. And it totally made my day. That's the purpose of this post. It's the small things, the little things that make a difference.

And they say chivalry is dead.

pescetarian? really?

Today I saw an article, and of course I can't find it right now while I'm looking for it, that says that pescetarian is one of the new words to be included in the updated dictionary (along with edamame, finally!). My first reaction: seriously?

Now, I don't want to offend any pescetarians out there, because essentially I am one, but I just tried to think of it in terms of practicality. And maybe that's because I get enough grief from those who love me about being a vegetarian (need I remind you I grew up in Texas). I had this image of announcing that I was a "pescetarian" and the grief I'd get. Or to people who may never have had a romance language.

Me: I'm a pescetarian.
Other person: A pesce...what? What are you?
Me: I'm a pescetarian.
Other person: And what on earth is that?
Me: I'm a vegetarian who eats fish.

Versus the current dialogue.

Me: I'm a vegetarian.
Other person: Oh. Do you eat fish?
Me: Yes.

And then apparently there's this debate on whether or not if you eat fish you can be considered a vegetarian. Maybe I just don't take my status seriously. But my argument, and this has to do with how I was raised culturally, is that you can eat fish on Fridays during Lent, and if you had the same upbringing then you may know you're not supposed to eat meat on Fridays during Lent. Very basic, but it worked when I was about 12 and tried fish for the first time and wondered if I could still call myself a vegetarian (this was during the time I was trying to justify it other than...I don't like the texture)...and oh, how heavenly was that sushi that came shortly after!

At one point I did try to give my specific brand of vegetarianism a name. In junior high some magazine had the different types and I went around telling people I was an ovo-lacto-vegetarian. Translation: I was a vegetarian that ate eggs and dairy. Essentially, not a vegan. And I got strange looks. But then again, this was Texas so maybe the odd looks were from the "vegetarian" part (only kidding!).

Again, I mean no offense. But just my two cents as a vegetarian. We already have labels enough for stuff, do we really need to specify down to the last detail what we eat? And if we do...what about the other things that can't be labeled? After all, there are debates about fish being meat, but what about other animals, like bugs? I'm not in the habit of eating a fried...whatever it was, cricket? But I have had the occasional escargot, and if prepared well, it's delicious. But are snails really meat? I wouldn't put them in the same category as a bull, or even a chicken for that matter. And they're not...fishy, exactly.

Maybe we should start labeling people who don't eat chocolate. After all, that's another important part of the diet. In my humble opinion. Especially dark chocolate (and it's good for you too! theoretically).

j'ai besoin d'étudier

Here is what I discovered after trying to converse in French: I need to study.

Well, let me rephrase that. I need to review. A lot. Excluding the French review class I had (now over a year ago), it's been about six years since my last French class. Really doesn't seem that long. I took a semester of an upper level French class in college and would have continued, except I had to change to Japanese for a year for my minor. And don't get me wrong, I loved Japanese and would love to continue studying it.

But hearing people converse in French, without really thinking about it, reminded me of how much I love French. And I used to be able to speak it a lot better. But that's what practice is for, right? Time to pull out my books and my collections of French poetry and throw myself back into the first language I fell in love with.

The thing is, I have a pretty good grasp of French grammar and a fairly decent sized vocabulary, but when it comes to speaking it, I'm terrified of making a mistake that will sound absolutely horrible that I freeze up and forget the words I'm trying say. So...I just have to get comfortable with speaking it again.

Easy as that, huh?

On a side note, the radio is talking about a cold front coming in over the weekend, which I'm finding highly amusing. I hear "cold front" and I think gusts of northerly winds that will drop the weather to the 50s, maybe 40s. High 80s really doesn't sound like a cold front to me. But of course, it's all contextual since at least it means it won't be in the 90s.