Cynically Optimistic

Apparently it's monsoon season on Long Island. Forecast is for torrential downpours of biblical proportions, for the next 20 minutes. Look out for the mini-tsunamis rolling down the storm drain-free avenues. Add to that temperatures of 85 degrees and it's been a hot steamy foggy few days, and not in a good way. I forced myself to go for a jog Monday night, thinking it would be pure torture, running through the fog as steam rises up off the asphalt. And it was thick outside. The fog had a nice quieting effect on all the normal noises of the evening so I could barely hear cars on nearby streets or the dull hum of air conditioners, even the crickets seemed quieter. The lightning bugs put on a good show, so I actually enjoyed my jog even though I was drenched after about the third step out the door.

The jogging was necessary after eating so much guacamole this weekend. My friends George and Edgar came to visit for a BBQ on Saturday. We ended up watching WAY too much Sex and the City on DVD, and they taught me how to turn avocados into guacamole. Yummy! We also grilled sausages and pork chops, since I've finally figured out the subtle nuances of my charcoal grill with the charred wood instead of the standard Kingsford briquettes.

Good food, good friends, good conversation... all in all it made for a great weekend, in spite of mother nature.