City Zoning.

Oh, another week slides by, and yes, there was weather, and no, we could not quite find somebody to go out and cover it. No live remotes from the soon-to-be-bathroomed shed. No discussion of what seemed until this afternoon to be an onsetting TLK winter, one month early. Other things not getting press: the smell of honeysuckle on the ride home. The smell of peonies in the front yard. The fledged house finches. The threat of rain with such little follow-through that I may have to find a sprinkler. We've lived in the house a year and a half, and I've not yet used a sprinkler. It got hot. Then it cooled. Both of those things were mainly dry. Now it's getting warm again. This is how it's always gone; this is how it goes.

Edward James Olmos arrives in a month. Five weeks, if we're lucky. I'm taking concrete bids for the shed bathroom slab. I'm taking plumbing bids for the shed bathroom plumbing. I'm doing overly-complicated blueprinting for the shed bathroom specs. I have been to the city. They have told me I can't do it the way I want to. So I'll do it their way. Fine. Good prep for an infant. For an eight-year-old. For a college-aged kid. It's all one long zoning variance, if you squint at it right. Right?

I'm going to say we're edging up against seventy-five or eighty humid degrees out here at the puppet show, where one more semester winds down in lawn-chair conferences beneath the Chinese fir. And because we're hopelessly outmanned, instead of taking an actual 27401 reading to round out the Triad's least-reliable in media res forecast of late, we'll call it the same temp and relative humidity back home in GSO, too. Knock a degree or two off for Winston. They're closer to the mountains. Add one or two for anybody down east. They're down east. Little line of showers trying to stitch itself together off in the mountains. Maybe that'll get here. Probably it won't, but it's on the radar, and it seemed like somebody ought to make mention. Much stronger stuff than that off to our north and west, but holding north and sliding by, it appears. Shut those windows, Virginians. As for us down here: keep 'em open, but keep an eye out.