Dregs of Dennis

We're getting the remnants of Dennis today, so it's windy and rainy. Everyone freaked out unnecessarily (at first I thought it was just my mom, but then I heard people at work admitting it this morning) about it. Somehow they had forgotten that we usually do get hurricane remnants in the form of heavy rain and some wind, but NO ACTUAL HURRICANE. (We're way too far inland for that.)

I guess there could've been tornadoes, but as my tornado-alley friends will relate, tornadoes occur with thunderstorms, but not the sort of dumping rain we're getting now. Generally, once the rain comes you're pretty safe from tornadoes. Everyone's just a little edgy since the surprise straight-line winds (fondly remembered as "Hurricane Elvis") hit the city just about two years ago. What everyone conveniently forgets is that we're a catastrophic earthquake waiting to happen.

But some things are just hard to handle head-on. You can't sit around and contemplate your mortality all the time, however necessary it may seem. Though I never was a boy scout, I'm a big proponent of being prepared. I like to avoid surprises. I was reading a short story last night that was quite fitting, in that it observed we're all on the brink of death at every moments--the ways of expiring are many and often inconceivable. Still, your life could pass you by if you spent the whole time trying to anticipate the inevitable.

Good times on a Monday morning. It's just been a week's-worth of heavy stuff. My boss's daughter, who was my age exactly, died very suddenly last week. My friend's mother just learned she may have cancer, and my mom has had a bit of a warning sign herself (though the doctor has said the tests so far look ok and she's probably fine--sometimes "probably fine" sounds pretty dang good).

Rainy day = cloudy = frigid airconditioning in office. So I wore my favorite soft fleece jacket, muted blue, today. And it's giving me more comfort than anything else could, with the exception of a chocolate croissant.

And now to lighter topics: Patrick Dempsey! Woo hoo! Yes, I've talked about him before -- give me a break. I've managed to get JoJo hooked on his new, poorly written t.v. show. We agree that the actors are decent--they just get crappy plots and lines. But really, I'm only in it for Patrick. I still don't understand the continuum of hottiness from "Can't Buy Me Love" (probably the last thing I saw him in, when I was in jr. high and he was dorky) to now. That man has aged exceptionally well.

Time for lunch!