meteorologist me

So predicting the weather here is as easy as eating soup with a fork. And our local news station's "weather on the ones" (that would be any time the clock has a :11 in it) has become somewhat a comedy. The meteorologists are always off. But you can't blame them - it's totally unpredictable. Saturday it was a balmy (read: HOT) eighty degrees. Sunday we drove home through a hailstorm with little ice balls seriously threatening bodily harm to the RAV. And then yesterday we got drenched in rain.

Personally, I like the "after the rain" part the best. (And not only because Glade makes an air freshener of the same name - as if a bottle could contain the smell of wet cement and foliage.) The air is fresh and clean. And the trees that have found their green again (after a seriously ugly dead winter) seem to be even more green. It's like the leaves are little sponges, absorbing the rain and becoming wetly dark. (I double dog dare you to question my use of "wetly.")

My latest theory is that the meterologists get together for breakfast in the morning and sort of collectively decide on the forecast for the day. Maybe the way they have their eggs determines the weather.

So I had wheat toast this morning - I think that calls for a partly cloudy day with a chance of rain and sunshine.

And a side of hailstones.