It's Still Raining in Texas.

1. It's still raining in Texas.

2. I spent two months rent on my new glasses, or I should say lenses, because I still have my old frames. I should just put a big scratch on them now so I can relax.

3. Cucumbers, poblanos, and jalapeños. That's what loves to grow in our garden. Apparently that's what loves to grow in the CSA farm garden, too. And the jalapeños are super wicked hot. I chopped up a roasted one the other day and put a bit of it on a sandwich, and I burned my lip so bad I had to hold an ice cube on it for 15 minutes before I could finish eating.

4. It's still raining in Texas.

5. Lizzie Borden didn't do it. Maybe. I always thought she did, but I'm reading a couple new books that make me doubt my certainty.

6. J and I saw Hairspray this week. It's great. Go see it. Marijuana helps.

7. It's still-- A break in the rain! I'm going to ride my bike to the coffeeshop.

Happy Ending.

I realized that I forgot to post the final chapter in the story of losing $40 at Whole Foods. (It's not "Who Shot JR?" but hopefully someone will find it mildly interesting.)

Not that I tie up every loose end here, or even try, but Whole Foods needs the good press. It's endlessly complex isn't it, the American sport of building up and tearing down successful people? There's plenty to find fault with at Whole Foods, but I mean, please, John Mackay has almost single-handedly changed the landscape of American grocery shopping (I would argue, mostly for the better). Is it really such a shock that he's ambitious and a little crazy?

Anyway, I had told the customer service person that the transaction in question had taken place on a Tuesday. They went through all their receipts from Tuesday and didn't find any cashier's drawer that was over $40, or over at all.

But it wasn't a Tuesday, it was a Monday. I remembered that the super-gregarious cashier had asked me, "Did you do anything fun over the weekend?" which would be an odd Tuesday question. So it had been 3 days until I noticed that I never got the cash. I called back and asked them to look through their Monday receipts. They did, and they found it!

I drove over to the store and they handed me 40 bucks. I had given up on recovering it, so it was like a bonus. Like visiting your grandmother and she passes you a five when she kisses you goodbye.

I Love You, Tomorrow.

J is coming home tomorrow. Praise the lord and get this child out of my house!

A Trip to Target.

I have to admit that I just got back from shopping in a big chain store, and it did wonders for my state of mind.

I bought a shower curtain. That's all. It was $10. It's nylon, but woven fabric instead of a sheet of plastic. The main thing is that it's washable. The mold in our bathroom has been fruitful with all this rain and humidity. I don't know if it will be this way every year; in fact, I doubt it -- "This is not typical!" -- but I got really sick of wiping the mold off the shower curtain.

The sun was out when I woke up today. When I was driving to Target, the sun was still out and it was raining. That was a nice change. Now, another thunderstorm. I am not complaining about the rain any more. I was bitching to Z the other day, and he said, "You know, the only people complaining about this weather are people who've never endured a Texas summer." In other words, "I'll give you something to complain about." No more.

After I found my shower curtain, I wandered around the store for an hour or so, enjoying the air conditioning and the pretty colors. I contemplated towels, gazed longingly at the bright orange plastic bowls and cups, fingered an Isaac Mizrahi quilted bedspread. I picked up a box grater, put it down, picked up another one, put it down. I shopped for t-shirts and underwear, marveling that they could be so white, so pure and clean. I found the styles I wanted, in my size, held them for a moment, then put them back. A handsome man in the camping department cruised me. And then I bought my shower curtain and came home.

I love Target. I'm sorry, I know it's a sin, but I just do.

Towels.

When I went to the bathroom first thing this morning, I noticed there were several hand towels on the towel hooks, and the only bath towel in sight was mine, which struck me as strange because, since J has been gone, there have always been lots of bath towels all over the bathroom. For a while there, it seemed like there were towels everywhere, and I had a hard time keeping track of which one was mine. I think A's girlfriend uses two towels when she showers, and I don't know who else is taking showers here.

I like a fresh towel every couple of days, especially in summer when I take 2 or 3 showers every day, so I put my old towel in the hamper. When I opened the cabinet to get out a new towel, there was only one left. I've been washing towels every few days, which I don't mind at all because I'm using lots of them and I might as well wash them all, but there were no towels to wash. Where did all the towels go?

A and his friends went out of town from Friday until late Saturday night, and they left a basket of dirty laundry on the porch. (Why?) In the basket were two of our towels. We have about 7 or 8 towels all together. Most of them are mismatched, old thrift store towels.

When A got up, I said to him, "What happened to all the towels?" He said, "Towels?" I said, "There are only a couple of towels in the bathroom." He said, "Hm. Maybe we took them swimming. I thought we got towels at ____'s house. Let me check." A few minutes later, when I went to the bathroom again, there were three more towels in my hamper, not including the ones that had been in the basket on the porch. The basket is not there anymore. We're still short of couple of towels.

We also have about 5 pint beer glasses, which we use for everything: iced coffee, water, ... beer. Friday night, there was only one on the shelf, and one dirty in the sink. I found 3 more in J's room (where A is staying).

I realize I am now officially a crotchety old man complaining about "kids today." Some of their behavior can be attributed to their youth I'm sure. But there are bad guests of all ages. How to be a good guest is something I learned because for many years I was so frequently a guest. I certainly didn't know at 20 what I know now. (Most important rule: Wash the dishes. All the dishes. Second most important rule: If you move anything, move it back. Third: Your clothes belong in your suitcase. Even the dirty ones. Especially the dirty ones. Fourth: be quiet. I would have thought that Don't have parties and Don't bring your uninvited girlfriend wouldn't even have to be on the list, but I guess they're not as obvious as I assumed.)

I hope I was a little better at human interaction than A and his friends when I was their age, but I wouldn't bet on it. I have a couple former roommates who I'm sure have unflattering stories to tell.

So what do I do? I think what needs to be done is that this boy needs to be slapped, but I'm not gonna be the one to do it. What I'm trying to do is ride it out, stay cheerful, and try to be a gracious host regardless. I feel more like a put-upon mom than a host. This experience makes me glad I never had kids, and makes me want to call my dad and forgive him for everything.