There’s a huge winter storm bearing down on Tucson, snow down to 2500 feet predicted. The Tucson airport sits at 2643. So if the forecast holds, that means snow at my house. WTFF? Snow is about the only thing that makes extremely cold weather even remotely interesting to me (well, snow and the ice diamonds that pile up when frozen rain comes down on frozen ground) so I guess if three days of freezing yuck are coming, I’ll take the fluffy stuff. But I’m more than ready for summer. Bill and the lads are about to get an ice storm, I guess this is better. It will be fun to go up to Mt. Lemmon when they reopen the road after the storm, but it won’t be as much fun without the lads.
The boys in 2008, Mt. Lemmon
Acupuncture was intense and lovely, every point freaky and pingy. I told Larry, in the past four days, everything has streamed out of me. Words, effluvia, virus, blood, tears of rage at losing the Bernstein in the pointless cacophony of the Adams. I told him about getting so outrageously mad at Adams for being a tedious prong, and with perfect comic timing, he stabbed a needle (beneficially of course) into my hand and said “HUGE John Adams fan, don’t you be stepping on my man.” I laughed helplessly, having no idea if he’d even heard Adams before.