Today has been absolutely stunning, weather-wise. The temperature’s creeping up into the low seventies, and the air is crisp and clear thanks to the three days of miserably cold rain we’ve just slogged through. Samson is greatly relieved that he can now do his business in relative comfort instead of being dragged out into the torturous drizzle.

The other morning, between rainstorms, I was out walking Sam when an older lady passed us on the sidewalk. I flashed the quick smile I usually exchange with people I pass on walks, but she was clearly up for some chit-chat. “What are you doing out in this weather, girl?!” she half-shrieked. I didn’t know what to say because, um, this guy at the end of the leash? He needs to poop. And he can’t be trusted to keep himself out of trouble on the way. So that’s what I’m doing. But maybe she was making conversation, so I laughed politely.

“You’re crazy! I think you need to go get your head examined!” she continued. Me: a-ha-ha. “And get that baby off the damp floor! He’ll catch cold!” Okay, is she serious? It was cold out, but not health-endangeringly cold, maybe forty-five degrees. I laughed, still at a loss for words, as she walked away.

I suspect she might actually have meant it, though, because I’ve met this woman before. Her name is Crazy Bird Lady, and she works in a building Sam and I often walk past. I learned of the craziness in a previous encounter when she stopped me from her car to explain that she’d found an injured bird in some nearby bushes. She’d made a little bed for it there and given it a dried apricot, a cracker, and some pasta salad from her lunch. She was telling me this three-minute story because she wanted to be sure my little doggy didn’t get in there and mess with it as it was recovering. Never mind that my dog and I were clearly walking away from the bushes when she stopped us; maybe she figured the “recovery” could take a while.

Yep, so she’s kinda nuts. Another thing about rain: driving in it. I don’t mind the driving itself, just that I have to do it around other people. Even in a heavy rain, there’s always that ten or twenty percent of people who drive without headlights. Hey big gray Tahoe, I know it looks like I nearly cut you off, but really I was slowly switching into what appeared to be an empty lane, out of which your hulking, invisible grayness suddenly bore down on my rear fender. Turn your damn lights on.

Look, people, I know that turning your headlights on during the day generally doesn’t help you see any better, even in a blinding downpour. But the rule’s not for you. It’s for the rest of us, who’d like some hint of your approach. Doesn’t it annoy you when other cars zoom invisibly out of the mist?

I saw two cops pulling people over on the same stretch of highway during one particularly rainy bit, and I secretly hoped that it was part of a heavy-handed headlight patrol. Is it against the law? It would be if I were queen. Maybe it’s wrapped up in the officer’s discretion about what “safe driving” is.

Anyway, happy belated Pi Day to you all. John and I celebrated at our friends Paul and Patty’s house with shepherd’s pie, Frito pie, and grasshopper pie, plus a few rounds on the Wii balance board. Altogether enjoyable. (And congrats to Jay and Jen, who, halfway across the country, got engaged that evening! Yay!!!)

Tags: driving, headlights, Pi Day, rain, Sam, weather

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