The clock has just struck noon (struck? I do not have a striking clock anymore -- which is where that expression comes from. My birdsong-playing clock has just Baltimore-Orioled noon, is what I actually mean. The bird pictured at noon is a Great Horned Owl, but somehow this clock skips one bird a day, and always ends up, twelve hours after being reset, with the Baltimore Oriole at noon. Anyway, moving on.) just indicated noon, and I am very happily enjoying the rain.
It is RAINING. Straight downward, in geometrically straight lines that are slicing down through the air like a scimitar blade, if scimitars were only straight and not beautifully curved like they are. I could say "sword blade", of course, but "scimitar" is just one of my favorite words, and goes so much better with the word "blade". I think because "sword" only has one syllable, like "blade".
In any case, I have just returned to the house from the deck, where I was sitting out in this gorgeous (scimitar) rain, reading the Sunday Oregonian and drinking Bay Bridge Merlot, which I bought in a small bottle, only slightly larger than a beer bottle, for two dollars. Costs a lot more than a beer bottle would, though, but then I never drink beer, (bottled or otherwise) so the point is really moot. I've only taken two sips so far, so the bottle is still a little too heavy to drink comfortably from, but it feels quite delightful to have it right in my hand like this. I feel like a wino. Or like a rough sleeper, or whatever we call those who sleep out of doors because of their addiction to alcohol, when being careful not to hurt anyone's feelings. Not the alcoholic homeless' feelings, either, but usually some completely separate person, who has never had either an addiction to alcohol or the need to sleep under a bridge. PC, that's what it is.
I had breakfast, this lovely morning, at Sully's, in spite of the torrents of air-slicing (scimitar) rain, and enjoyed it no end. The coffee was not quite up to their usual, and my first few sips disappointed me sadly, but then I grew accustomed to its perfection-lacking, and enjoyed it at the level it was. Which was pretty darn good, and still better than Starbucks or, in fact, anybody's. I was reading a book which so far (only 73 pages into it) seems excellent, and I may be noting it down later as one of my Approved books. Does that sound suitably pompous? Perhaps Approved for Humanity -- better? Called "The Magicians." By Lev Grossman.
In any case, the food was excellent, as always, the service was attentive, and I really enjoyed my plateful of multi-colored toast and apple butter while listening to the conversations of those around me. One gentleman, a fire-fighter (possibly retired) started three sentences with the words "When I was a little kid in Miami" which I enjoyed, but the most wonderful part was a plump, balding, middle-aged man sitting with two women, one of whom was his mother or aunt (that age, anyway) and the other of whom was his sister or wife (also the right age, and mildly affectionate). He was telling the two of them some story about someone buying books, in the past, books which are currently highly valued because they are old editions. Hold that thought. But you know, money was harder to come by, then, and a little bit of money went a long way by today's standards. He understood that, too. Where he went wrong was in speculating in awe about how hard it was for "them" (didn't catch who he was talking about) to buy these old, valuable books -- "some of 'em were even first editions!" -- with their little bits of money, at the prices these valuable books would command -- today. He didn't think far enough to get that the prices would have changed, too, that "old books" are valuable because of their age, which requires the buyer to buy them after that. Not back when they were new, and just basic books. Delightful to hear this.
So, the plan for this afternoon and evening is to make a shopping list for later in the week, complete the task of sorting, ironing and putting appropriately away all the laundry in my room (about three-quarters done), vacuum the house, and possibly clean off and polish the low dresser in my bedroom. And, otherwise, eat and drink tea and rest and read and go to bed early. That is the plan for today.
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