It's Personal

One tends to develop a relationship with weather up here, so it is hard not to take it personally when it doesn't rain all day (when I have chores in the house) until the moment I step outside to drive to the feed store.  It started pouring before I even hit the big road and continued all the way to Mt. Aukum.  Not wanting to put bags of goat chow and chicken scratch into the bed of the truck to get soaked and spoiled on the way home, I settled for a bag of corn and a bag of wild bird seed that would fit into the cab of the truck.  At least the chickens and turkeys will be happy.  I had hauled enough chow down to the girls to keep them fed for a week, so I'll try to outguess the rain and make a run for it another day.  (It's raining again this morning.)

Pearl has a hate relationship (no love-hate about it!) with the rain, dodging drops as she races to the house, and complaining bitterly when she comes in.  Frank seems fascinated by the weather and will sit under the porch or the covered part of the deck and watch for the longest time, day or night. 

I can only think that things in Portland, Oregon, must be deadly dull.  I called another service provider, still trying to get affordable high-speed Internet service.  The representative I drew interspersed his brief answers to my questions with information, in detail, on how liberal Portland is, describing the many clubs where the customers dance completely nude, but that wasn't his scene.  Moving right along, he told me all the specifications of Howard Hughes's Spruce Goose airplane, which is displayed in a town close to Portland, and how the geodesic dome was built to house it.  I didn't know that, standing under it, the nose of the Goose is ten stories high overhead.  He also talked about traffic in Los Angeles.  He followed his wife from there to Portland fifteen years ago, but they divorced anyway.  His two daughters (in their thirties) live in Portland, so he probably won't be moving soon.  Gosh, the things one learns, and I am so happy to share.  I felt bad about interrupting to say it was getting dark and I had to put the goats to bed, but after an hour of his chatter, I had to do it.  I don't think I got enough information to make a decision (and I don't think he really cared), but he did give me his direct-line number so we can chat again when I've thought about making a change.  Hmmm.