It's raining again. This is the fourth weekend in a row, people. I'm not getting any gardening done, and although the new plants are enjoying the long spring drink my back yard is slowly turning into a quagmire. I'm scared to see how much turf the sourgrass has taken over, and I don't even want to think about the invasive bamboo in the corner. The lawn is out of control. It's going to get me kicked out of the neighborhood, I just know it.
John caught my cold, poor old dear. We used to never catch each other's colds. We really have to start taking vitamins, or injecting steroids, or doping or whatever it is kids do these days. I hear elderberry is very good for influenza and upper respiratory trouble, but John pooh-poohs herbal remedies. He actually said that one day, it's not just a figure of speech. I made some comment and he waved his hands dismissively, saying, "Pooh. Pooh. Pooh." like a little steam engine. I was terribly amused.
I learned a funny fact tonight about the U.S. Geological Service's earthquake forecasts. You know, or you can look it up if you go to their webpage, that they make forecasts of quakes happening in a particular area being 1 in 100 or 1 in 12 or whatever within the next 30 years. Know why they chose 30 years as the predicted period? Because that's the normal length of a homeowner's mortgage.
Well, I thought that was funny. I have earthquake insurance.
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