Rain, blessed rain

I woke this morning to foggy windows and an almost-chilly cottage. Last night just as I was going to bed the wind picked up and rain came down—real rain, not the tentative sprinkles we’ve seen for the last couple of days. This was hard, soaking rain that would do the gardens good and made the world smell of wet earth. Sophie and I sat in the open doorway for too long, soaking in the smell and the wetness. And then I slept soundly, much later in the morning than usual. I feel refreshed, as though I can take on the heat of the coming summer.

My mom was a great advocate of catching more flies with a teaspoon of sugar than a cup of vinegar. I put her philosophy into use today. Jordan’s been having a difficult time with the local chain pharmacy where I’ve had my business for years. Yesterday, she tried to return something I had been told I could take back, but she was refused. She announced we were going up there tomorrow, shopping day, to demand the refund and then we were taking our business elsewhere. I hated that because they have all my records and all my various physicians show them as the pharmacy of record.

Today I called, said I was sorry to bother the pharmacist, did he have time to listen, apologized for seeming difficult, said I didn’t mind going elsewhere but I hated to leave behind a reputation as difficult. Result: we can return the drops today while he’s on duty, and he marked my account for no automatic refills (a big part of the problem).

Reminded me of what I read somewhere today: The literal translation of namaste is “the divine spark within me salutes the divine spark within you.” If more people dealt with each other that way, the world would be a different place. I’m not saying either the pharmacist or I had to salute the divine spark, just suggesting we recognized the good in each other, instead of the instant anger. I think you only say “Namaste” when you sincerely mean it.

I’ve been enjoying the last of the salmon Megan brought. Yesterday, I had a salad plate with cold salmon and mayo—Megan had the same but my daughters both heat meat, won’t eat it cold. I love it cold. Today I made salmon salad. Jordan laughed because she had heated and finished her lunch while I was still chopping celery, cucumber, and scallion for my salad. But it was good. I love leftovers (Jay, are you reading this?).

Tonight, Betty and I had another of our dining adventures, and I have to eat a little crow about this one. The owners of an upscale contemporary Mexican restaurant got health conscience and converted the restaurant to healthy foods, probably at least three years ago. With a kind of false bravado, I thought I don’t like kale and quinoa and I’m not going there. But tonight, we went, and it was terrific. Betty had shrimp tacos, I had a good beef burger with yucca fries (couldn’t tell the difference, and the aioli was delicious), and we shared churros. And drank some wine. A fine meal. Now we want to go back for the bison tacos. Shows you about dining with an open mind. I heartily recommend Righteous Foods.