… but Osi is gone for the season.

The bird is cruel, and so is the NFL.

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It rained in Santa Fe yesterday afternoon. At least on the north side of town.

“Rain” is a bit of an understatement, though. The water fell in blinding sheets, alternating with hail. Hailstones piled up on the ground like styrofoam peanuts, forming ankle-deep white drifts. The streets turned into rivers, and lakes formed in some of the intersections. We had cars stalling out on Alameda when they tried to drive through waters that came halfway up their tires.

And of course our roofs sprung leaks. Minor leaks in the main house with its new pitched roofs, where the violence of the storm forced water in through vents and such. Major leaks in the office house, which is partially torn down as my new book tower is constructed, and has an old flat roof over the parts not torn down. The hole that will eventually be my basement is now a swimming pool. And the worse leak of all, of course, was in back closet where some valuable books and comics were being stormed. Half of my remainining stock of the now out-of-print Guardians of Order GAME OF THRONE rpg suffered water damage, to a greater or lesser degree. We caught it early enough to rescue the rest of the stock, thankfully, but some of the books are still ruined, and the carpet in that room is soggy and already beginning to molder and will need to be ripped up.

A real mess.

I blame Parris. For years now she’s been teaching her Irish godchildren to chant, “Rain, rain go away, go and rain on Santa Fe.” The gods must have been listening.

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