Soft Oregon Rain

It's a soft, grey, drippy Oregon day—entirely conducive to cooking warm, inviting food and curling up with a book and a cup of tea.

My houseguest and I braved the copious water this morning to stock up on groceries for our ongoing healthy-eating vacation from our husbands and on books at the Corvallis library—a bright, airy place with none of the heaviness of urban downtown libraries. It was filled with such a potpourri of people, from teenagers, to grandmothers (like me), bicyclists with one pant leg rolled up, clip-clopping in their bike shoes, OSU students, adults from all walks of life, and a little gaggle of homeless men who had just come from free haircuts at one of the local churches and were just hanging out and socializing out of the rain next to the Latest Releases shelves by the door.

I shared a laugh with a tiny woman who ruefully commented that she couldn't remember which books she had already read. I told her I figured if I didn't remember whether I had read a book, I probably wouldn't remembe reading it. One of the advantages of growing old.

I chose three novels whose authors I'm unfamiliar with and a Tony Hillerman mystery I somehow missed when I was on my Tony Hillerman kick. Oh joy, another foray into the world of officer Jim Chee and Lieutenant Joe Leaphorn in Navajo land.

Lin is painting downstairs while I write this in eager anticipation of starting on one of my novels. Later—a Moroccan vegetable stew. What better way to pass a rainy day?