Margaret Atwood wrote that “potential has a shelf life.” In this case, sometimes potential lives on a shelf.
Yesterday I arrived in the unnamed portion of Ohio that I called home for fifteen years of my life. If you’re wondering, it’s not “unnamed” because I’m trying to protect my privacy; it’s unnamed because it’s a vast expanse of suburb that quite literally has no name. We’re not quite Loveland (unfortunately. Can you imagine living somewhere named love-land?) and we’re not quite Mason (because Ma$on is fancy). Kings is the school district but technically Kings is the tiny little neighborhood directly surrounding the Junior High and High School. And my mailing address might be Maineville, but Maineville is really a few miles north.
But that’s neither here nor there. The point is: I’m home! Continue reading
Can I tell you something? Weather is something I just don’t understand.
I remember studying weather in 5th grade science. My teacher made us memorize that wind is caused the “the uneven heating of the earth by the sun.” The memorization part totally worked, but I still have exactly zero idea what that means.