"Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now."
My Boog Pages
Friday, September 16
Stick It
It's no surprise that whenever we get a snowfall down here in Texas, the first words you'll hear from every random stranger are, "Do you think it will stick?" The white stuff never lasts more than a couple of days.
But after a hot, dry summer like this one, the rain doesn't stick around long either. I drove through a cloudburst on the way home yesterday, and by the time I arrived I couldn't tell if any rain had fallen at my house. The ground soaks it up like a sponge, and any water pooling on the concrete of the street or sidewalk evaporates like steam from a frying pan.
The only clues are the dark blotches - like bizarre sweat stains - creeping out from the edges of the yard or following the cracks in the driveway. "It's not the heat," they seem to say. "It's the humidity."
The Lighter Side Of Graham. When I climbed on the scale this morning, it read 230.0, which is something of a landmark. I haven't been below 230 in seven or eight years, and just six months ago I weighed in at about 242. I haven't done much differently, just eaten a little less, oh - and worked myself half to death. I'm still looking for a dark cloud here, and have managed to convince myself that I'm dying from some deadly wasting disease. Speak well of me when I'm gone.
