Formidable dark clouds, Norwegian jazz, and the splatter on window panes.

After yesterday's post, I began to hear the tornado/storm sirens going off from the outskirts of the city. The formidable dark clouds approached, thunder boomed, and I ran frantically through each room of the house shutting all the windows so that I wouldn't have to clean up a mess of rainwater when the storm passed. Today, it is raining again, minus the thunder and lightning bolts; instead, just kind of that lazy Monday rain, a downpour just enough to make the sky hazy and distant, but not so torrential as to make one afraid of stepping outside. 

Its kind of nice, in that serene, quiet kind of way. The house is silent, settled. John's bumbling about in his studio, listening to Norwegian jazz . . . Arild Andersen  or something or the other. . . I can hear the resounding melodies of the bass. I can smell the thick scent of oil paint, linseed, and canvas, maybe a splash of turpentine, drifting its aroma from the room. It's enough to give you a headache, so I hope he opened a window. 

I'm in the dining room/kitchen. I can hear and see the splatters of rain hitting the window panes of the kitchen ceiling. I'm debating whether I want to chop up a couple tomatoes and make a marinade. Pasta sounds delicious right now . . . or steak . . . which is weird. I usually never consciously want steak. Must be the jazz, it throws off my moods.