We had snow last night, about an inch, but it's the fluffy kind that looks like Ivory Soap flakes on the ground, all sparkly and light. Naturally I got my car washed on Saturday after work (it had about 5# of salt on it) and I drove to work today next to a pizza truck that spent the whole time spraying my nice clean car with dirty, salty, road grime. Thanks a lot, pizza guy! I am so over winter. Time for spring.
February 21--Tenerife, Spain. It sat there on the horizon brooding, emitting a plume of steam every few days like a snoring giant. "Oh, I wish it would just blow," Dani said as she stood in the doorway of the rented cottage. Cottage, ha. It was more like a shack despite her work to make it more habitable. Brad didn't care; he was happy as long as he could see his beloved volcano every waking moment. Sometimes Dani wished that Brad was as consumed by her as he was by the mountain but then she knew that she would soon grow to hate that intense scrutiny and the probing into every change in her looks or her disposition. "You don't really," Brad said from his desk at the wide window beside the door. He had sensors and meters, computers and printers spread over the wide trestle table he used as a desk, and he spent all the time he wasn't tramping over the volcano's slopes fiddling with them. "Why?" she said, looking over her shoulder at his intent face staring at the computer screen. "Because there's a better than fifty/fifty chance we're in the blast zone here. We'd either be vaporized or buried in ash." "Oh," she said, "swell." She slid down the door jamb landing with a bump on the flagstone step. "That's reassuring," she said. He smiled over at her. "Hey, that's volcanology field work for you, a tantalizing mix of boredom and terror. What's not to love?" She thought that she could have married Nelson and spent her honeymoon in Norway while he studied ancient runes in a chilly drizzle. Brad was much better looking and an ardent lover, besides it was warm and sunny here in Tenerife. She hated being cold.
Nice. That's what I like, a shallow woman. Marry a man because of where he pursues his research, that's my advice.