What a nice, warm, mellow day this was. I saw a robin pulling a chubby earthworm from the lawn a couple days ago, so I call Spring.
I trust birds.
Mrs Elliott has been out of town for the weekend, exhibiting at a conference in Atlanta, GA. With her gone, one could be excused for thinking that Jack would lay about the house, drinking beer, watching sports, and belching.
One would not be wrong, I did all that.
But I also built up a sweet little mountain bike for Mrs Elliott today. As soon as the next nice weekend day comes along, we'll take a ride together -- maybe up the river trail, bring some sandwiches and white wine, a camera, and enjoy the day.
These are the unpredictable days, here in Bend. Dour, bitter Old Man Winter (think: blackdog) has not released his grip on Central Oregon, though his strength is weakening; while cheerful Spring, yet a callow youth hereabouts, hasn't the strength to wrest us out of crummy OMW's grasp. So, being caught in a tug-of-war between these two opposing forces, Bend has to contend with surges from both Winter and Spring.
Spring will win, and will escort us to Summer; and Summer will lead to Fall, who cannot but take us back again to Winter. Around and around. Things will get better and better before they get crummier and crummier. This is how things go, this is the nature of living on a planet with an axis tilted relative to the ecliptic plane, in a place so at affect of the seasonal changes.
Hey -- howzabout that swell new black and white picture of me (over on the right)? I got them glasses a couple months ago. Mrs Elliott hates them, says they remind her of her math teacher. I like them as they are awesomely dorky.
The stern expression? You got a "D" on the last exam. See me in my office, young lady.