It's been raining in Oregon. Foggy in Oregon. Rainy and Foggy in Oregon. Grey and Rainy and Foggy in Oregon. Damp and Grey and Rainy and Foggy in Oregon. It is not sunny in Oregon. I'm getting pretty tired of Grey and Damp and Rainy and Foggy. At the small market station i work for, i've kind of fallen into a coach/learner relationship with this Dear Little Old Man, who makes his living by futzing with circuitboards, solving intense differential equations, and driving up the mountain to bring the transmitter back online. DLOM is kind, and has deep creases in his face from a lifetime of smiling. DLOM says to The Fabulous Girlfriend, The Beautiful Boy and I, one cloudy misty day, that it "only rains in Oregon three times a year. From October to May, Some of June, and Some in September."I've been wondering for nineteen weeks in a row if i'll ever fucking see the sun again. I know it is up there, probably exactly the 93 million miles away that it always is. I just wish i could see it now and again. Tonight at work, the chief meteorologist is calling for rain and fog and grey and damp for another seven days straight. I'm hoping that the smiling face of J.R. Dobbs is in the sky, smiling down at me from above the Rain and Fog and Mist and Grey and ......well, i hope his FROP is as good as the stuff i smoked today. who am i kidding. of course his FROP is good; he's Bob!
Today i took a drive up and down the valley. It was cloudy, but was not raining. However, the moisture saturation in the air was low enough to see the foothills on both sides of the valley, and to see the snow-capped mountains beyond them. I could see Mary's Peak, overlooking Corvallis from the west. She was beautiful. I had pretty much forgotten that she lived there. and then, ten miles north of Eugene, a wallcloud of fog stood there, defiant and still. i flipped the foglights on in the snarfler, and plunged unafraid into the glowing mist.
It ain't all bad. some people really like the clouds. you can see their work here. Christ. i just wish sometimes that a nice, fat, sub-zero northwest blast would come through for a few days like it did (and will continue to) back home on the prairie. An uncaring, Far-Below-Zero wind that scrubs the High Plains, leaving behind topsoil-flavored snowdrifts under the screaming White Winter Sun, circling quickly in the fiercely blue southern sky. Something other than this sluggish, slow-moving sea of clouds, the fan blades of the repeating spiralic systems pinwheeling in from their focal point over the Bering Sea.
I think this qualifies as a complaint. It's okay. I'll simply move my purple wristband to my other wrist, and begin again at this very moment. Happy New Year, dear reader.
3 comments:
And here we sit, in our snow and cold and think that the clouds and rain sound good :)
It's cloudy and -12 here and Tim doesn't want to go out and work, how about dem apples! (He told me to tell you that!) hee hee
hugs~
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I like weather that is more than grey and drizzling as well. England isn't the land of weather beyond grey and drizzling. I like Australia and Nebraska and New Mexico and Minnesota. I miss heat and sweat and hanging out in the freezer isle in the summer hoping for ice cream, but being satisfied by cold and sneaking my hand behind the oh, so, heavy furniture that my dad hid the thermometer behind and loving the noise of the giant boiler in the basement kicking on to blow hot air all through the house.
Your Bob link doesn't work. But I knew, immediately, that you were talking BOB! And I looked on my shelf for the Church of the Subgenius. It's there.
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