BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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Did I Really Write That?

I’ve been at this blogging thing since June of 2013, so a solid five years now. In that time I’ve published nearly 700 posts. Most of them have a fair number of words to them. Some, however, are quite short, and feature photos or a video instead of my usual ramblings. Still, that’s quite a few posts.

The thing about it is, I can’t actually remember writing all of those posts. It’s almost as if I was in some sort of stupor when I published them. Not all of them, of course, but I have stumbled across several that make me scratch my head in wonder. Are these really my words? Did I really say that?3d-clipart-question-mark-20.png

It’s not that I disagree with my past self, or that I’m embarrassed by anything I’ve written. At least so far I haven’t been. It’s just that it seems like the act of writing should leave more of an indelible mark. I ought to remember my words, as I remember the quilts I’ve made or the scrapbooks I’ve created.

Maybe words are just too common. Maybe it’s more like trying to remember meals I’ve cooked. Some stand out, for various reasons, but most just fade into the background to be forgotten. Maybe that’s how it is with words. Sometimes they stick, but other times they say their piece, only to be quickly forgotten.

I don’t mind, really. Sometimes it’s fun to see the suggested posts at the bottom of my screen and click on an old post. Sometimes it’s like seeing an old friend, but other times it feels brand new.


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Stormy Nights

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Here in the desert southwest we’re in the midst of monsoon season. Yes, that’s a real thing. The past three nights have brought huge storms with tremendous winds and rain.

Night one was the scariest. It started with a giant dust storm that swept through our area, whipping up leaves, debris, and dirt, and depositing a great deal of it into our swimming pool. The dust was following by a torrent of rain, and winds that just wouldn’t quit. Our metal shed couldn’t take the wind and slid around, banging into the adjacent wall. We didn’t realize that it was never secured in place. That will be remedied today.

Night one also did quite a bit of damage to trees in our area. Ours were spared, but our neighbor has two large limbs that are dangling precariously. I worry that the next storm might send them flying into my yard, or worse, into my home. Those limbs, however, are nothing compared to the giant limb that was ripped from one of the stately old trees in my school’s playground. Remarkably the district’s grounds crew had removed it by the next morning. I imagine they worked into the evening to clean up all the sites in our district. Kudos to them.

Night two had us a bit on edge, as we were concerned that it would be a repeat of night one, but in our area at least it wasn’t quite as bad. It didn’t bring the dust of night one, and the winds were slightly less fierce, based on the fact that the shed stayed in place during the storm. Unlike night one, that temperature barely dropped, making it uncomfortable to be outdoors.It was still quite a light show, with flashes and bolts of lightning entertaining us from a safe distance. My poor dog spent a second evening cowering in her kennel, convinced, I’m sure, that the world was ending.

Night three came in with a gentle rain that built steadily until it was a full fledged monsoon, complete with whipping winds and thunder and lightning. Again, there was less debris in the pool, mainly because most of it got dumped in there on night one. Again the shed stayed put, and again the dog cowered.

All three nights we watched the storm from our lounge chairs that we’d put under the patio cover, along with everything else that might blow away or get damaged. Nights one and three were nice and cool, relatively speaking, and I spent a good long time watching mother nature have her tantrums, but night two was hot and sticky and I retreated to the air conditioning after just a short time.

These storms are powerful and dangerous, but there’s no denying their beauty. As long as I’m safe at home and away from the lightning, I love a good monsoon. My poor dog can’t say the same.