Daily Storms.

Rain yesterday evening. Rain this afternoon. Rain again tonight, probably. It's like living at the beach. And today's rain? The hardest we've seen since we rebuilt and redrained the writing shed. An inch or two, surely, in less than half an hour. We flooded in all the usual spots, except for the most usual spot, and a dry and well-French-drained cedar-sided writing shed makes for a happy daddy, even if the boy did vomit twice in ten minutes on two separate shirts of his and two separate shirts of mine, followed by World-Cup-caliber diaper shitting, also in rapid succession. New plan: feed EJO and then just stand naked in the rain until all bodily functions come to a (however temporary) close, and then try dressing him and walking him around. Good thing it rains every day now. What we'll do when we go back to hot and dry I don't know.

How I do so very much love this every-afternoon thunderstorm pattern we've been riding.

Plugged in the computer out back today. Wiped down the desk. Got it cornered in by the bank of windows. No sentences yet, but a good post-EJO start, given that one of those aforementioned reintroductions of milk from the boy back into the world occurred during the plugging in. Little fucker. Everybody's a critic.