thoughts on the weather

It rained this morning.

It is still raining now, but it started early this morning, pattering soft and full against the ground.

I slowly filtered up out of a dream in which I already was very late to work, and I couldn't manage to get everything together, not my lunch, not my keys and wallet, not my umbrella. And as I ran around trying to figure out where my umbrella could have gotten off to, I started to panic about having lost it, because of course it was raining and I needed it.

I woke up and thought "well, at least I haven't lost my umbrella."

But when I got to the shelves by the front door, I had my lunch, my keys and my wallet, but my umbrella was not there, and it was not in my backpack, and I had the horrible realization that I had left my umbrella at work. Because, you see, sometimes it rains in the morning but stops before the time I leave for home, and it has not rained here in a long, long time.

So I considered my options. I could hail an Uber, but rain like this causes terrible surge pricing.

I could walk outside as is, and arrive at work looking like a drowned rat.

I could put on the closest thing I have to a raincoat, which is my winter jacket. But although it was raining, it was not much cooler than it had been yesterday, which was not very cool at all. I shrank at the thought of the warm winter coat.

I french-braided my hair in the bathroom but without facing the mirror, because my mirror-twin is no help when it comes to my spatial awareness. My arms burned. It was warm in the apartment. I longed for last weekend, when the apartment was 67 degrees and dry, instead of 80 degrees and humid.

Winter jacket it was. I left the zipper undone, held it loosely together in front of me, hoping it would have less luck insulating my body with a large vent. It funneled rainwater down to my thighs. My hair and shirt stayed dry. I did not look at passersby with umbrellas. I pitied myself enough to want to avoid the possibility of seeing more in someone else's face.

My rainboots are not very comfortable. They wear little blisters into the bottoms of my heels and then grind away at them. But at least my feet are dry.

I arrived at work to see my pink polka-dotted umbrella peeking cheerily out from beneath my desk.

There is a section of my legs, from thighs to mid-calves, that is completely drenched. I am trying to tell myself that this would have happened with or without the umbrella. I greatly dislike wet jeans.

I greatly dislike rain.

The weather is gray and sullen, and so am I.

payday

It is the 15th of the month, which means that it is payday and also that the month is halfway over. And at some point I feel like I'm just rolling over and letting the tides of time drag me around. Because, really?

Halfway over?

And speaking of the passage of time, where did 2015 go?

The other day I was looking sadly at my sidebar here on the bloggaroo because I have had material aplenty but no inspiration, and I could have sworn that it was this year, in 2015, that I blogged 500 words 5 times a week in January, but no. It was 2014.

2014 is kind of a black hole in the timescape of my life. I mean. I know what happened in it, but WHAT HAPPENED IN IT?

Apparently my blog can tell me, at least, what happened in January.

Anyway, it being payday and all, I paid my credit card, moved some surplus funds from checking to savings, and then ordered a bunch of vanilla beans.

I am a little baffled by my own methods, here. Usually I wait until the end of the pay period and then reward myself for staying under budget by buying whatever it is I've been dreaming about right before I clear the card and start fresh. For some reason, I decided starting fresh this month would be accompanied by spending some money on vanilla beans. After the clear. Oh well. They were on sale and I feel good about what I paid for them. Now I get to wait happily for the package to be delivered!

I'm very obsessed with both vanilla beans and with French braids this week. It's a weird time in my life. The weather has also confused my stomach, so I am never sure what I want to eat, but I am usually pretty sure that it is nothing that I have available to me.

Between last night and this morning, I ate three huge, perfect peaches that dripped juice down my face, and I regret nothing except that I have no more peaches to eat.

vanilla bean weekend

It rained last week.

I mean that in only the most positive way, because it rained last week and before the rain it was summer and after the rain it was autumn!

I haven't been so good about watering the plants on the back porch lately, and sometimes the basil droops sadly when I go out to check on it. Since getting back from the greatest vacation I have ever known (sun! sand! surf! tan lines that are persisting even several weeks later!), my groove has been a bit, let's say-

thrown off.

Also, something is eating the mint and I just don't have the emotional energy to expend on stressing about it.

This weekend, I sat around the apartment in shorts and loose t-shirts and my fuzzy pink snuggie. Snuggies were a big laughingstock back in the day but AS IT TURNS OUT, snuggies are basically the perfect couchwear when the weather is cold. The sleeves let you keep close all that body heat you've been dutifully pumping out to help stay comfortable.

Laugh all you want. I love my snuggie.

Inspiration, as happens sometimes, struck. I had two vanilla beans living semi-permanently in a mason jar on top of the refrigerator and hadn't been feeling particularly inspired. And the thought occurs: cream soda is the greatest soda!

This is not, of course, strictly or always true, but when it's true, it's true. There's something really special about the flavor of cream soda. Which, naturally, is not actually cream-flavored, but delicately caramel-and-vanilla-flavored, creating a rich, light, creamy texture that bubbles on my tongue.

Now, I know soda is the opposite of health food, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that (1) the sugar is real, if plentiful, and (2) I wasn't adding phosphates.

So I caramelized some white sugar on the stove, scraped and then steeped one of my two remaining vanilla beans, seeds and pod, and came back in an hour.

Vanilla beans inspire a sort of reverence in me. I bought them from Beanilla and they arrived, oily and plump and oh-so-fragrant. The smell fills the room when I take them out of the packaging or their mason jar home, and it is richer and deeper than any vanilla extract. I can never decide whether I want to try to make my own extract from precious beans, or just use the beans as-is. So far, I've just used them as-is.

I plan to buy more, in bulk, later this week when my paycheck rolls in. Tomorrow. They are running a deal that is pretty phenomenal, less than $1/bean (Madagascar) and free shipping and I think, hey. I can treat myself once in a while. Besides, I'm running out of beans.

I should treat myself to new clothes, but that's not something that's fun for me.

Anyway, the syrup, once cooled, was thick and strong, and I swirled it into seltzer and drank it greedily. Yes. This is something worth doing. I already want to try making another batch, taking the sugar to a deeper, darker amber. I was afraid of burning it, but I erred on the lighter side and ended up with something still delicious (it is my curiosity, not my tastebuds, that remains unsated).

Anyway I think that the rich vanilla flavor that cuts through so sharply is really where the soda is going to continue to shine. This is one thing for which vanilla beans are definitely necessary.

I ... don't really have anything else to say here, so I suppose I'll sign off.

Oh right. I figured out, spur of the moment, how to French braid my own hair a couple of days ago and it is changing my life. I think my hair is going to be less greasy because it will come in less contact with my face and also this is THE ONLY way to style your hair and know you're going to avoid headaches. It is just so perfect.

I feel like the french braid is to hairstyles as the triangle is to bridges.

YEAH.

Only I can't do it while I'm looking in the mirror because my spatial intelligence is not so good, so instead I fly blind every time. Hey man. Still fancier than regular-braid. It does make my arms ache something awful though. I figure I'll get faster the more I do it.