Tarp Nails.

Well, WeatherDog, we came through all right. We only got about an inch, so I'm not sure what kind of test that is, but the creeks didn't rise and the tarp held on. Only about an inch. Not sure that phrase has ever appeared here at ANYLF. And now it's September-yellow out there, the sun breaking through more often than not, and the light's the kind of way where you want to open up the front door and discover it isn't even seventy degrees out there, except that it's well more than that, a kind of muggy warmth, and we continue to ride right along the line between seasons.

Spent the morning reading TLK's so often lovely poems and I'm still in my robe at 1:43 in the p.m. and I'm battle-weary from having gotten up to check the ceiling at 4:30 and again at 7:45, but I've had some coffee and some breakfast and TLK and I have big plans to spend the afternoon at a local fried-food-and-cheap-beer purveyor watching the Georgias play the Central Michigans on the satellite, and then tonight I get to make some avocados and tomatoes into something good to eat, and so even though I've sent several J.Crew U-related emails today, thus violating in most ways my work-life balance, there's not that much against which to lodge complaint.

The cicadas are cranking up out there. They don't know what time of the day or year it is, either.