I don’t know what it is about us as we age, but the weather fascinates us.
Momo and I watch the weather every night. Even if it’s raining, we want to know if there will be more rain or when summer will actually start frying our brains when we go outside. It’s been raining here almost every day for almost three weeks, and more is coming, so I guess the El Niño thing really works.
Momo did her Girl Scout Indian Rain dance in April, and I’m sure that set it all in motion. I’m talking big rain, 2-3 inches at a time, flooding, winds, tornadoes, hail, water rescues, the whole enchilada with extra sauce. She worries that I watch too much news, but it’s crap; I watch only for the weather forecast. I told her it’s better than sitting by the window watching for the mailman to deliver our junk mail. My late, late grandmother did that for twenty years, and then one day she won some stupid prize and got a big check, so I guess it was worth two decades of watching the mailbox.
We spend most evenings, after Wheel of Fortune, on our covered back patio, safe from the rain and hail, sipping a libation. Lately, our resident Road Runner has been in the backyard more than usual, looking for frogs and lizards. He came up behind my chair and probably would have jumped on my shoulder if Momo hadn’t moved. They are large, curious birds that kill Rattle and Copperhead snakes to feed their young, or just for fun, so it’s a bird you don’t want to piss off. The Indians in the area say that if one lives on one’s property, one will always be snake-free and have good luck, so play the lottery, which Momo does. I guess that’s why Dodge named their most popular muscle car back in the ’60s’, The Roadrunner, with a 440 Hemi.
Notes From The Cactus Patch 