Return of the Washoe Zephyr

The trend continues. Today in Reno was cold and windy, and the high was only 68. While that may not sound too bad, the Washoe Zephyr was at full blast today, and that made it feel about ten degrees colder despite the sunshine. For those of you who don't know (which is probably every single person who will ever lay eyes on this blog) the Washoe Zephyr is a particularly ferocious wind that blows in off the Sierra and flings anything that is not nailed to the ground into central Utah. Local folklore has it that Mark Twain coined the term during his stay in Virginia City in the 1860's, but that story is apocryphal; Twain simply noted that this was a name people used. He said the Zephyr "blows flimsy houses down, lifts shingle roofs occasionally, rolls up tin ones like sheet music, now and then blows a stage-coach over and spills the passengers".

The wind today had a definite feel of winter to it, the way the wind feels when it blows into your face down a snowy ski-run. The local news continues to shrug and talk about "yet another late-season storm." I'm just starting to wonder at what point we move from "late-season" storms and into "early-season" storms. I guess this year the seasons are going to go from Winter to Mild Winter to Winter again.

Speaking of things that never end, can I take just a moment to mention just how very, very much I don't care about the fact that Tom Cruise and that girl from Batman are engaged. I mean it, I absolutely could not possibly care less. I don't care if it's a publicity stunt, I don't care if it's yet another attempt on his part to deflect those persistent gay rumors, I don't care if they're more in love than any two people have been. I don't care about what monument they're being photographed in front of or where they hold the press conference to announce their betrothement or what furniture they're dancing on top of. I. Just. Do. Not. Care. So why even mention it, you ask? Because I resent the fact that I must hear about it everywhere I go. I resent having my intelligence insulted by the implication that I should find this interesting. In fact, I resent the entire cult of celebrity for which this new power couple is just the latest irrational obsession. If people want to waste their time pondering the mysteries of Tom-and-what's-her-name that's their business, but I'm tired of hearing about it.

There, the bitterness is out of my system, for at least ten or twenty minutes.