Old Man Winter
It’s raining, it’s pouring,
The old man is snoring
Winter in Southern California always makes me really gleeful, in part because I love rain and in part because I love to watch other people suffer through trivial indignities like getting wet. Particularly when the other people involved are big sissies who have lived here too long and wouldn’t know real weather if it blew their roof off. Hee hee hee, snork.
And then there’s me, all set to boast about how I’m finally on the road to health after three weeks of random upper respiratory infections when a chain-reaction coughing fit has me paralyzed for a good three minutes. Oh well. I’ve still got the use of a nostril and a half, that’s something anyway.
While I’m in the spirit of book-mentioning, I should also dredge up The Lost Continent: Travels in Small-Town America, which was one of the ones that got me through the train ride in good humor. It may have cost me my only shot at a train friend, as I made some damn odd noises at the funny bits, but that’s all right. And finally – some of the Amazon reviews may lead you to believe that this book is nothing but America-bashing by a curmudgeonly expatriate, and this may even be true. I found it to be a rather uplifting aid to my own repatriation, a good reminder of all the bizarre, wonderful, and absolutely hilarious shit strewn along this country’s highways. Probably this is because I’m an absolutely hopeless basket case. Whatever.