I don't think I've ever actually seen a mothball, but I think this is what they'd call mothball-sized hail. This was yesterday's dose of it which came after a big thunder and lightening storm. Today we just got a wild cloud show. Now is the time when Portland's everlasting spring starts to wear thin. There are still tons of flowers and trees in bloom but the heater is also kicking in at night. Sandals and scarves sit in the same pile on my floor.

It's always easier to blame the weather for all the crankiness around here. . .
or it could be the funny hairdo I seem to sport in every single photograph, the same one I'm sporting right now,
or it could be the total lack of plot in my book,
or the neverending supply of hypocrites, religious and otherwise,
or all those dead people who shouldn't be dead.

The sun will be here soon and most of my crankiness will go away even though my hair is still funny, my book is still dull, the hypocrites are still alive and the dead are still dead. I am one of the lucky ones.