Gloomy. Chilly. And yet the roses persist.
Is this some class of literary device? Might there be some deeper significance here?
Who knows? Not me, chief. I just work here.
It’s true that we finally caved and turned on the furnaces, and even so the uniform of the day now includes pants, long sleeves, and occasionally a fleece vest.
Too, Thursday brought a chilly rain, and plenty of it, so much so that I never considered going out for a ride or even a run (I ran on Tuesday, and again on Friday, and twice a week is my limit on that nonsense).
Happily, gloom and chill tend to be shortlived in the desert. Hell, these days the sun doesn’t even peek round the Sandias until shortly after 8 a.m. And boom! There the sonofabitch is, right on time. I’m no gardener, but I’m trying to cultivate patience.
Is that some class of literary device, with some deeper significance?
Beats me. I’ll leave that to others. I just like sunshine and flowers.
Mad Blog Media 
Our vincas and germanium on the patio are still blooming. I put the germanium under the patio roof against the house when a frost is forecast.
Been in jeans, sometimes with a Filson vest, for two weeks or so. Boo and hiss. But, I don’t miss multiple days of 100 degrees plus. Rain forecast for this afternoon, and I hope all the El Tour de Tucson riders are off the course before the rain and wind starts. The last group starts at 1020 mountain time.
When I was a cyclocrosser I lived for wind, rain, snow, mud … anything to keep the fast guys at home and give me a shot at the podium.
As a geezer I invariably stay home in that weather. And I ain’t even fast. Half-fast, mebbe. …
The block wall. Keeping out the incompetence perhaps. The roses to remind him that if he chooses to go too far with his foolishness, it will hurt.
Some people think he should be placed behind (or up against) against a wall like that. In jail, under the jail. … gosh, there I go again, committing treason, inciting insurrection, selling sedition.
No, wait a sec’, I ain’t sellin’ nothin’. This here blog (satire, parody, etc.) is strictly for freesies. And for laughs, Dog willin’.
Been reading about and watching Majorie Taylor Greene talk about realizing how DC works and dumpster not drawing the swamp but being the swamp creature of the century. Next thing you know she will gather with us around the Mad Dog pickle barrel. Would we welcome her?
I remain suspicious. I think she’s getting ahead of the rush for the exits with an eye toward making herself the MAGA queen. She’s got her pension, she’s bailing a year early, and there are more opportunities outside the national legislature for anyone with ambition … especially if the Donks retake the House and Senate.
You are probably right. I let my optimism get out of control again. But, it was quite the turnaround, heh? The lightning fast trip under the bus probably did it.
It’ll be interesting to watch in any event. She knows she can’t go toe to toe with the senile old fool at the moment, but if he croaks she can drop Hillbilly Boy with one punch. She may be underestimating the misogyny of the MAGAs, though. I don’t see that crowd sending a woman — even that one — to the White House.
Well, I’m going to a jam this afternoon. So, Saturday I go out to play!
Put me in, coach!