Gluckschmerz in Northern Michigan

So, here we are, at the cabin in northern Michigan where we spent a week in August last year, again enjoying perfect weather. The temperature is in the mid to high 70s; the sky is clear; the humidity is low, what could be more perfect? I'll tell you what could be more perfect. If the weather here were better than it is at home right now. For the last several weeks we have had typical central Illinois July weather. Temperatures in the high 90s, with humidity levels to match. The sweltering that makes farmers happy because the corn loves it.

So, I come in to the Pentwater library with my laptop this afternoon to catch up on emailing and internet news, and the first thing I do is check on the weather back home so I can feel sorry for the poor saps who are not on vacation in northern Michigan, only to discover the weather is just as nice there as it is here. Right now, the temperature back home is 80 degrees, the humidity is 44 percent and the skies are sunny.

There is a German word, "schadenfreude" which means to delight in another person's misfortune. I was all prepared to feel schadenfreude at the poor people back in Central Illinois this week; I was more than prepared for it, I was looking forward to it. Unfortunately, there is no schadenfreude for me today, I'm feeling the anti-schadenfreude, the feeling of sorrow at other people's good fortune. Thanks to the internet, I found just the word, "gluckschmerz." I know, I know, I should be more mature and be happy for the weather fortunes of the good people back home, even if they didn't have to pay $4 a gallon for gas to enjoy their moderate temperatures and low humidity. Oh, well. They didn't get to see the sun set over Lake Michigan last night, and instead of the pine-scented breezes wafting through their houses, they're smelling the Kraft factory and the University's south farms. (I hope.)

Weather Report: What A Perfect Day

This is a perfect day in Central Illinois. The temperature is 72 degrees, with a high of 82 predicted; the humidity is a relatively low 68; there is not a cloud in the sky. I don't know how we could get so lucky in mid-July, but I decided to thank God for such a day by staying home from church and enjoying the weather. So, I'm on the back patio, drinking coffee, reading the Sunday newspaper, listening to healthy radio, Whole Wheat Radio, out of Talkeetna, Alaska, and enjoying the beautiful yard, The Wife (and God) are solely responsible for providing. In a few minutes, I'm going to ride my new bicycle (new to me; it's a classic Raleigh built 35 years ago, and built to last another 35, my bicycle supplier tells me) to the Great Harvest bakery to replenish our bread supply. What could be better?


(Oh, and to keep from completely blissing out, go read Frank Rich's column in the New York Times (subscription may be required, but it's free) this morning. The stuff I've been posting from former Bush staffers is just scratching the surface of the ugliness that is going on in our nation's capitol. If you don't want to face any unpleasantness, just look at my backyard, listen to some music, drink some coffee and enjoy the perfect weather.)

A Spiritual Sunday Morning

I woke up late this morning, another perfect day like the ones with which we have been blessed here in Central Illinois the past week. The temperature is 80 degrees, low humidity, not a cloud in the sky, not a morning that should be wasted sitting in church, fidgeting, looking at my watch, wondering when this is all going to be over. Instead, I'm sitting on the patio, listening to my favorite radio station, Whole Wheat Radio, out of Talkeetna, Alaska, a listener-run station operating out of a small cabin in the woods.

Tiny is hardly the word to describe Whole Wheat Radio. There are 33 listeners this morning, and the station has a capacity of only 90 listeners. I like it because it plays the music I like, folk, light rock, country, blues, by independent artists. The operator of the station is a computer genius who has set up an automated station that plays listener requests, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Other than my usual sloth, I woke up late this morning because we had a spaghetti party last night, brought on by an over-abundance of chianti. I have a client/friend, a retired restaurateur, a Sicilian-American, who lives nearby and brings me tomatoes, eggplants, peppers, and Sicilian cucumbers. Who needs a garden when you can feast for free from the excess of your friends? Last week he brought over the usual vegetables, but also some home made pesto, spaghetti sauce and a gallon of chianti. We invited Number One Son and The Bride, Baby Milton, EIEIO, another friend who doesn't have a psuedonymn yet and three students from The Bride's English class, two of them from Korea and one from Brazil. Besides spaghetti, The Wife made crostini topped with pesto, tomatoes, and provolone cheese; a salad and an unbelievable peach cobbler, made with fresh Farmer's Market peaches.

I ate too much and we almost killed that gallon of chianti. If I am hung over this morning, it is only from a surfeit of good times, not alcohol.

And now for my spiritual insight of the morning. I know I have done nothing to deserve this gorgeous Sunday morning, any more than I will deserve the below-zero blizzard we will probably have this winter. I think I am enjoying it because of climactic conditions. But if anyone wants to attribute my good fortune to God smiling, be my guest.