The rains are here. Not full-blown yet, but they’ve arrived. The Great Northwet (sic). The rain gauge shows that we received about an inch and a half in the last two days.
Ah, just like a farmer to talk about the weather. Except, and I have to keep reminding myself of this, I am not farming. All hat, no cattle.
So, what should I talk about? Politics? Religion? Poker? The default button is poker.
Last night was fun. I warmed up at PA, lost a buy-in almost right away to a player who will call anything if he has a draw. I had 2 pair of the flop, he had his straight, no turn or river required, even though the turn gave him a flush draw as well. After that hand, it didn’t take long to get back to even, and then double up. I can’t complain.
On to Stars. I hunted around for a room, and each time I found one that looked yummy, nothing. Card dead. And if I woke up with a hand, no action. OK, fine. Move on to another table. Bammo, two pair on the flop! Oops, he had a set. Could have lost more. Half my stack is not so bad, eh? Rivering a flush on a player with a set brought me back up to even, and there I remained.
I was chatting with a friend. “Rana” looks good. I jump on the table and sit there forever. It’s getting late, the witching hour. The table is starting to get “that way.” I didn’t even bother to look to see what the guy was drawing to when my AK paired kings and doubled me up. Time for bed.
Except I don’t go to bed. I watch the news while knocking back a nightcap. All politics all of the time. Sheesh. Thanks to blogger Change100 for pointing me to this Op-Ed: www.nytimes.com/2008/09/21/opinion/21dowd-sorkin.html It’s pretty hilarious in a pithy sort of way, yet pretty much sums it up for me. Of course, feel free to disagree.
Cocktail had, I hit the hay, say my prayers and before I know it, the alarm. My routine begins.
While putting the ducks out, I notice that the annual rye that I cut and lightly tilled is sprouting. I will never grow tired of seeing that which I have planted begin to come through the soil. I see more thistles and tansy that need to be eradicated before they go to seed. It never seems to end. And worse, I recall a misadventure from last week.
I had some mowing to do. There was a thistle I hadn’t seen before, in full flower. I got off of the tractor, cut the weed off at the base of the stem and threw the pernicious thing into the front end loader to dispose of later. Several days later I needed the tractor again. It was a windy day. As I backed out of the barn, hundreds of thistle seeds took wing.
There’s a parable or two in there somewhere.
It’s still raining.