All right, the rain two days ago was lovely, what with the air being comfortably warm and the rain similarly toasty. Two days later, a lot colder out with rain feeling more like pre-icicles, it's going about this all wrong. Weather Control should expect a stiff note of protest.
In other news, we've got lunch meats and cheeses. This probably doesn't strike you as worth mentioning. I would agree, but my father has made a point of saying it at least twice a day since Wednesday, when my mother came home with it. My father is convinced she got more sandwich meat than can possibly be consumed by three people in any amount of time, certainly not before it would spoil, what with salami and cheese being such rapidly perishable items and refrigerators being unable to do anything to affect food's shelf-life. I doubt there's much danger of the sandwich materials going to waste what with our family's habit of eating sandwiches. Particularly since I don't make sandwiches thin enough that they can be slipped in through unopened lips.
It would be easy to suppose my father only meant to inform me that there was plenty of stuff to make sandwiches, and kept forgetting he already told me. And he may have; it's just that he has a similar belief that anything more than one package of hot dogs needs to be put in the freezer lest it spoil in the week we might take to get to it, so a couple days after the last package was opened there's a search through the overpacked freezer to find more hot dogs in need of defrosting. And he also thinks if there's more than six bagels in the house then some have to be frozen, since with three people around here we'd only get to the seventh bagel in one and one-fifth breakfasts.
As of last night there were a couple slices of the ham which my father asked me to save because he likes a few slices of it for breakfast left, and his snack before bed was two peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches.
Trivia: Seats at the Grauman's Egyptian Theater premiere of Don Juan, sound edition, on 27 October 1926, were $5.50 apiece. The Speed of Sound, Scott Eyman.
Currently Reading: 1941: The Greatest Year In Sports, Mike Vaccaro. You see the challenge. For this to be the greatest year in sports, the baseball component -- by definition weaker than that of 1908 -- has to be made up for by strength in the other sports. And 1941 was such a primitive time that people back then thought horse-racing and boxing were major sports, whereas now we know them to be slightly better than Ryan Seacrest-hosted ``radical'' contests used for fodder on Cheap Seats.