Based on the weather, I think we have displeased the gods.

Finally, it's let up, but many of you have also been laboring under the deluge that was the month of May, and the first part of June, for that matter.  The rest of you are thinking, "Duh, it's Oregon, doesn't it rain all the time, there?" Well, yes, but usually not over six inches in one month.  My garden is generally a lush and bountiful place, but right now it's like the tropics, only not very warm.  The slugs and snails seem to be about to overthrow the government. Now that I think on it, they may be more ethical and able than most politicians--and similarly slimy.  Possibly smarter, as well.*  We may not even notice the difference.

Weather is a big deal in our house because my father in law is a meteorologist, and no, NOT the kind on TV.  The kind who does research that SAVES LIVES.

Here is where you might be saying, "Huh?"

So I'll just ask you, last time you or someone you love got on a plane, did you worry that a micro burst thunderstorm with wind shear would cause the plane to crash?

No, you did not, BECAUSE my father in law did research in the 80s that led to the development of technology that allows planes to identify and avoid these situations.  Before that, wind shear was a very common cause of aviation accidents.  So he goes around quietly, masquerading as a typical citizen, but his brain has saved lives.  Maybe that's what he's doing when we think he's fooling around on the computer in his office.  Of course his superhero name will have to be The Mighty Weatherman.

 

Here he is, The Mighty Weatherman, disguised as an indulgent grand-father.    

So The Mighty Weatherman's offspring, The Man Who Lives In My House,  is much more interested and attuned to the weather than most (young) people.  He does not watch the Weather Channel--but only because we do not have a TV.  We have about five or six weather sites bookmarked.  He checks them quite frequently and makes predictions in an authoritative manner.  I like to call him SON of WEATHERMAN.  He thinks I'm mocking him, for some reason.  Probably because I've been trying to convince him to put his underwear on over his pants and wear a cape.  I could post a picture of him right here:


Unfortunately he will not cooperate.   He won't even let me take a picture in his lycra biking gear.  You will have to use your imaginations. Last Thursday, I drove to Portland through the moist and juicy mist  and took off for California. When my plane touched down (safely) in Oakland, we had a fun little text exchange:

Me:  I stepped of the plane and am blinded.  I hope it's not permanent.

TMWLIMH:  That big yellow ball in the sky is called the sun.

Me:  I'm afraid I have only vestigial eye buds left.  I have devolved. Perhaps I should sacrifice something to the mighty big yellow ball.

TMWLIMH: Blog-able!

You would think/hope the gods would wreak havoc/hurl thunderbolts over the corporate offices of BP.  Let us hope that they take it easy with the hurricanes this season.

*You may be surprised to learn that slugs can be trained.  Back in high school, my friend Chelsea won prizes for a science project proving this.  I will try to get her to guest post to share the details.