When I awakened at midnight, I could hear the pitter patter on our metal roof. The pitting and patting were still in full gear when I awakened at 5 a.m.
"It's raining," Bill said as I entered the kitchen.
"Yup," I said.
"Yesterday afternoon's weather forecast called for 100 percent chance of rain overnight," he said.
"Well, we got it," I responded, adding that this fall's rains have been the real deal, compared to a time last fall when Bill suggested that the powers that control the moisture forgot how to make it rain. We'd get clouds and 30-40 percent-chance-of-rain forecasts, and maybe 30 drops would hit the ground before those clouds headed east.
That's why we had sink holes in our barnyard last December. With no rain all fall to allow the dirt to settle where the excavator had dug up a water line, that December snow and rain made up for lost time.
Well, the 100 percent pitter patter has quit. We have puddles and mud, and I'm probably going to wait a few hours before resuming my job of cleaning out the gardens. Yesterday I plucked at least a couple of hundred green tomatoes and the remaining green peppers. I dug all the onions, and cut sunflower blossoms from their stems.
With the picnic table set up in the shop, I can use the table as a work bench and remove the seeds and have plenty of winter nibbles for the chickadees. Right now, I think the chickadees and finches are mad at me for taking most of their sunflower goodies. Those big, thick stems take up space, though, and the dirt has got to be worked up and ready for spring planting.
This is Tuesday twitter day, so I'll twit a bit.
I thought I was going to have to do my morning backward, cuz when I took my usual walk from the pasture to the paperboxes, both containers were empty. Again, patience is keeping my expletive output down these days. So, I went to the house and decided to start my blog. The Internet didn't work.
Those satellite people keep insisting that the rain has nothing to do with the system's performance, but my data shows that every time it hasn't worked, rain has been going pitter patter on the dish. With no Internet, I did say a few bad words, but only the walls heard. Bill was in the bathroom shaving.
I went upstairs to work on a project I'm doing for that Leadership Sandpoint tour next week. So far, I've gotten to Chapman's Food Market, Del's Family Shoe Store and Hayworth's Bakery. My angle is to tell about things I remember during my youthful downtown visits.
While most everyone else remembers all the time they spent at the Panida Theater, I remember that we were poor.
Going to the movies was more of a bi-annual experience for us. All I remember about my youthful days at the Panida could be counted on one hand without even using all the fingers: Old Yeller, Lassie and The Blob. I don't know why, but I love bringing up my memories of The Blob. I think it must indicate something about the way my off-kilter mind works.
I'll leave The Blob to roll on its way and go scare someone else this morning and get on to the fact that the day ended up going forward. Just as I sat down to my upstairs computer, the Internet came back on, and I heard the paper deliverer speed up for the next stop.
So, everything on my daily routine is finally in order this morning, but during the mix-up, I did think about a time when going out to get the paper may not be part of the routine. Our regional newspaper cut its staff once again---the second time in a year.
It makes me mad because I've always loved the Spokesman, not only because I've written for the paper on and off over the years but also because one of my dearest journalism students has been on staff for several years.
No more. One damned good reporter is now looking at another future as of last week. She's smart, though, and she'll do fine. She sensed not-so-good times ahead a while back, and she's taken off a different direction. Still, it's disappointing to see a gifted young lady with such a bright future have to take her own slight detour because of the economy.
Along those lines, I learned that the economic domino effect had taken its toll one of the magazines for which I've written over the past 11 years. At first, while on the phone receiving the bad news, I took it well. Then, I hung up. That 2 by 4 of reality hit me between the eyes, and I suddenly realized the low feeling of being a true statistic of an outside influence.
The job not only gave me access to fascinating people around the nation and the world, but it also provided appreciated extra cash. For the time being, I'll be learning how to operate without either. Still, I look toward the opportunities and different challenges that lie ahead. To do the opposite is unproductive.
These events, and those that keep facing us every day as we watch our economy go further and further into the tank, are unsettling but also inspirational. If we can move on and embrace what falls along our pathways, we'll simply continue our personal journeys and hopefully grow from the experiences.
Of course, if stuff turns around, it will be a whole lot easier. For now, though, we just have to twitter along and hope for the best and pray that those newspapers will come on time as long as the presses keep running.
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