I woke up in the middle of the night so hot that I had to open the window. It was such a relief to feel the cool, rain-smelling air coming in, though now I feel bleary and confused about what time it is. Rain off and on today. As Wright wrote it, "part of the rain has fallen and the rest is yet to fall." (I'm paraphrasing, he probably said it better.) I can already hear the crows outside yelling for food in my front yard - I guess it's still 9am to them and so that's about the time. There are oyster mushrooms to be picked in the graveyard. I've made a half dozen salads with all the greens that are thriving in my garden in this strange heat. 

I woke up to a recruiter reply to a linked in series of exchanges - looks like an interview Monday. It's nice to be looking for work casually while I have a job, although my job is about to be hell for the next several weeks as I try to wrap up two back to back major releases. Ugh, who wants to think about that, though? It's bad enough that tomorrow is Monday.

This morning is a show for a friend of a friend who got into a particular public altercation over Halloween with a loathed public figure. The friend's band got a lot of backlash and boycotting from the right-leaning community, so it'll be nice to go and show some support. The confrontation itself has lived rent-free in my head ever since it happened because it's so hilariously like a parks and rec bit: the friend, dressed as a cat, yelled at the mayor, who was dressed as Ms Potts the Teapot from Beauty and the Beast. Chaos ensued - including a former councilman getting involved (who was dressed at the time as US Grant). You just can't make that kind of small town drama up. 

I do love this weird town. A neighbor died last week - not someone I knew well, but a nice old man who always waved at me from his porch when I ran by - and it was touching seeing the whole neighborhood come out for the funeral. (He was buried across the street from his house, in the cemetery, next to his wife. I think you could do worse in life than to be buried across the street from your little house next to your wife.) Even some dogs that the guy apparently liked got to come. It turned out he had been some kind of firechief so the whole department came out in their dress blues and their massive truck that's the size of two tractor trailers. (Respectful awooga to them.) But there was such a big neighborhood community feeling about it all. It feels good to belong in a place like this. 

Creamy sky, hot weather again. I'll go sit on the porch.