Rain? Don't get your hopes up
I guess you have to be born a weather junkie, as I was, to gripe about Southern California weather. Wednesday, the forecast suggested a change (!) in the weather, calling for a windy, cloudy, day Thursday with a chance of sprinkles (!!) and more clouds and moisture for Friday.
On Thursday afternoon, sure enough, the wind rose, clouds came over, and a sprinkle of rain fell from the sky just long enough for me to raise my face and catch a couple of drops in my eyes. And with that, it was gone. Now it is Friday morning, 10 a.m. Outside there is not a cloud between here and Hawaii. There is some sprinkly weather, all right, but it is about 100 miles north of us. The good weather always goes north of us. I am a twin to Charlie Brown, and Lucy Van Pelt is the weather bureau. "C'mon, Charlie Brown, I mean it this time, it is going to rain with clouds and wind, and temperature in the 60s. I'll bring this weather, I promise, so you can go ahead and get your hopes up."
So I do, every time, and out there right now the sky is a beautiful, deep, warm, blue, and I am working up a sweat, sweeping up another splintered pile of dashed hopes. I know this is unreasonable. People spend millions of dollars to leave the East and move to Southern California for the weather. I love our weather, I really do. The East gets snowstorms, we get sunstorms. Who's to complain? Yet I have the feeling there are other Charlie Brown cousins out there this morning, wondering why they feel so grumpy.
The depressing effects of gray weather on humans is documented. Light-emitting devices have been invented and marketed to counter these effects. I have always thought such devices were silly, but no sillier, I suppose, than a device to block out sunstruck blue skies and drip water on your head. I am the reverse Joe Btfsplk. In "Li'l Abner," Joe went around with a gray, sprinkly cloud over his head. I go around in a spotlight of blue sky. When I go home to visit Texas, I always hope there will be some weather. There never is. When I moved to San Diego in 1972, God decided that was it for me. I stepped forever on the bad side of the Weather Nazi. No rain for you. No thunder, no lightning. Old friends in Texas know of my plight. When they get a thunderstorm, they actually call on the phone and let me listen.
I would never have been able to spell "Joe Btfsplk" without Google. I wonder if Al Capp, fulminating in his grave, feels betrayed by Google for providing such easy access to a secret he thought would probably be secure forever, outside of a circle of devoted comic strip scholars. With that kind of power, I would think I could Google "rain" and sit back and wait for a shower within the hour. Hm. I actually haven't tried that yet. I will go do that now, and let you know what happens. Sounds like a last resort, doesn't it?
On Thursday afternoon, sure enough, the wind rose, clouds came over, and a sprinkle of rain fell from the sky just long enough for me to raise my face and catch a couple of drops in my eyes. And with that, it was gone. Now it is Friday morning, 10 a.m. Outside there is not a cloud between here and Hawaii. There is some sprinkly weather, all right, but it is about 100 miles north of us. The good weather always goes north of us. I am a twin to Charlie Brown, and Lucy Van Pelt is the weather bureau. "C'mon, Charlie Brown, I mean it this time, it is going to rain with clouds and wind, and temperature in the 60s. I'll bring this weather, I promise, so you can go ahead and get your hopes up."
So I do, every time, and out there right now the sky is a beautiful, deep, warm, blue, and I am working up a sweat, sweeping up another splintered pile of dashed hopes. I know this is unreasonable. People spend millions of dollars to leave the East and move to Southern California for the weather. I love our weather, I really do. The East gets snowstorms, we get sunstorms. Who's to complain? Yet I have the feeling there are other Charlie Brown cousins out there this morning, wondering why they feel so grumpy.
The depressing effects of gray weather on humans is documented. Light-emitting devices have been invented and marketed to counter these effects. I have always thought such devices were silly, but no sillier, I suppose, than a device to block out sunstruck blue skies and drip water on your head. I am the reverse Joe Btfsplk. In "Li'l Abner," Joe went around with a gray, sprinkly cloud over his head. I go around in a spotlight of blue sky. When I go home to visit Texas, I always hope there will be some weather. There never is. When I moved to San Diego in 1972, God decided that was it for me. I stepped forever on the bad side of the Weather Nazi. No rain for you. No thunder, no lightning. Old friends in Texas know of my plight. When they get a thunderstorm, they actually call on the phone and let me listen.
I would never have been able to spell "Joe Btfsplk" without Google. I wonder if Al Capp, fulminating in his grave, feels betrayed by Google for providing such easy access to a secret he thought would probably be secure forever, outside of a circle of devoted comic strip scholars. With that kind of power, I would think I could Google "rain" and sit back and wait for a shower within the hour. Hm. I actually haven't tried that yet. I will go do that now, and let you know what happens. Sounds like a last resort, doesn't it?
Labels: Sky
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