When I was a kid the poem
“Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day”
didn’t mean much to me.
“It’s raining, it’s pouring,
the Old Man is snoring.
He went to bed, and bumped his head,
and didn’t get up in the morning.”
I lived in Helena, MT, and they only averaged
11 inches of moisture each year in Helena, MT,
including the oral precipitation from cowboys and cowgirls.
I always heard it was drier than a popcorn fart,
although I was never sure what that meant.
Since moving to Seattle,
these poems grate through my mind endlessly.
Ya’ know how a song gets stuck in your head?
Yea, that’s my brain on rain.
Ya’ know that saying,
“Stick it where the sun don’t shine?”
I just figgered it out.
You’re supposed to stick it in Seattle.
We celebrated our last day of school today,
but my teenage son said,
“Mom, it just doesn’t FEEL like summer vacation
when it won’t stop raining.”
No school should = no rain.
A few years ago, we came up with a plan to fight the depression of
living in a place where the sun don’t shine for 226 days each year.
The females came up with this plan,
so you know it involves
Travel back in time to an earlier blog called
It will cheer you up, I promise.
If it doesn’t, you can always go shopping.