For dinner I made another pot of pink beans, and they turned out okay. I didn't put any celery salt in them this time, just onion salt, and that was an improvement. Still, they weren't as good as the pots of beans my mom used to make. For the most part she was an indifferent cook, though a good baker, but she could make an amazing pot of beans. Like the meat loaf my dad made, it's something I'll probably never learn to duplicate.
Another thing I expected today but which didn't happen was the return of the homeless people who were hanging out on the bike trail for a few days before the rain. I was sure the warmer, dry weather would bring them back to linger in the shade of the bush that tops my back fence, but like the mockingbird they never showed up. Maybe they'll come back tomorrow, like swallows to Capistrano. Swallows are perhaps a bit more romantic than the homeless, but then Capistrano is considerably more romantic than Chico.
We're supposed to get a slightly cooler day today, and then it's going to get warm again for the next two weeks and beyond. My guess would be that today will be the last really cool day of the season. The small flock of geese I heard flying over a couple of hours ago might be the last I hear until fall. If I survive until fall.
Oh, crap, is it really half past three? I cant keep track of anything anymore.