Storms Are Starting to Form Over...Me

Kate Bush has a song on her Hounds of Love CD called "Hello Earth" that I teach as an allegory of Ophelia. The main voice sings to earth from outer space, warning of water in its various forms. To fishermen and seamen, she croons: "Get out of the water." "Storms are starting to form over America," she moans. "Hello, little earth." And beware the flood.

It stormed last night here in Houston. Hail-like rain slammed the windows and a crack of thunder shook open the drawers in the extra room.

And I dreamed that my doctors had secretly been giving me Melphalan already in small doses, so I would not have to take the big dose this week. I awoke feeling both betrayed and relieved.

My old friend, Denise, and her family came to visit yesterday. We ate at the Hobbit Cafe. The menu has changed only slightly since my family and I used to eat there in the 70's. They no longer make cashew butter. They've moved, too, but the same posters of Gandalf, Gollum and Bilbo hang from the walls. I had the "slim" version of The Strider sandwich. But it was still more egg salad than I could eat in one sitting.

After that, we all went to Amy's Ice Cream. It, too, looked familiar. A lot like Amy's in Austin, but with a wall of bricks spammed with youthful comments like "I'm bringing sexy back" and so and so was here.

It was fun, but today is gloomy. The sun won't come out, and the time change brings within me the urge to strangle my local congressman. The whole of MD Anderson groaned with earliness. My test delayed because the computer was still asleep. The elevators jammed, leaving fragile people at the doors grumbling in tones so low even teenagers should not be able to hear...though I did. Even the eggs were runny in the cafeteria, slopped on to my plate by one unhappy and under-rested worker.

Today, the earth...though it does not suck, certainly spews.