Calling It

Dear J-

So yesterday was billed as rain! all! day! but instead I got a bit of drizzle on the way over to Burlingame, and nothing the rest of the day. Around here, in the grip of drought, we’re taking our rain watching seriously; last winter was unusually dry (I think there were maybe one or two days I didn’t ride my bike because of rain) and so far we’ve had more this year, but the rain has been pretty disappointing overall. So far. Diurnal variation overnight is only approximately 10% (low 54F, projected high 60F) and I’m impressed that we’re like Hawaii in that regard, if not exactly an island (imaginary geography excepted).

It is supposed to rain this afternoon and night, so we’ll see how well that prediction holds up given the ability inability to predict the weather here. I suppose I shouldn’t take it too personally, given that weather prediction is an inexact science. I have noticed that everywhere you go, local people like to brag about how unpredictable the weather is: have you ever heard anyone say something like “If you don’t like the weather, wait for five minutes: it’ll change!”? It’s been bragged from both the Bay Area and New England to me, so that’s everyone, right? My regional variation/hostility is showing again.

For a few months I had convinced myself that Harvey Mudd was the only place I would want to attend; there was the thought that the Los Angeles region would be kind to a footloose traveler. It’s always instructive to think of what might have been or what might have happened if only for … If I’d done this or that, if spinning off into a million branching paths obscured in fate and mysticism. At times I’ve convinced myself that I’d be teaching somewhere, and then my lack of patience belies that idea, we continue on and laugh at these what might-have-beens. Last night we went to ramen; if theVet has been at home there is a strong predictor that when the day has been cold, something warm will be had that night: this is our fate, an easy call for the night.Beyond that all futures are fuzzy, and not always wonderful, but I can’t worry about them until they’re in my control.

Mike

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