I don't understand why many folks tend to have a titty attack when it comes to changing weather patterns.  That's what the weather does-- it changes.  We're not destined to have sunny and cool days forever.  And what's fallen from the skies all week long is just rain. 


                         


You know, rain?  Those little wet droplets gifted to us from gloomy, gray clouds overhead?  Rain.  The stuff that not only hydrates living things but also doesn't actually ruin or put a damper on our plans unlike, say, bratty whining? 

The exception to the whining rule, of course, is a sports or other outdoor event that isn't cancelled until the last minute, leaving spectators or guests waiting around like idiots in the cold and at the wrath of a storm.  Because, yeah, being struck by lightning might suck a little.  So would wasting money.

But, c'mon.  What's up with the wusses who don't leave the house whenever it rains?  The friends who cancel any and all plans at the sight of clouds and then mope around and gripe all day about how the weather has been a cruel traitor to their funtime?                            

                              
     
I just want to strangle these folks with an umbrella.

Besides, rain doesn't ruin their "plans".  It ruins their make-up.  People ruin plans.  And as far as our hair is concerned, we all popped out and into this planet with a mussed top.

I fuck'n love rain.  It's rained all week, and I've loved it from the moment of its arrival.  It's been refreshing as mist and drizzle and almost musical the harder it's fallen.  I think I love it so much, too, because it forces all the wusses to clear a path for me.  Thus, I feel like I am on vacation, enjoying the freedom in space and trots in puddles.

Another reason to love rain: it brings us all together.  How?  Well, it makes us look shitty.  Yep.  As one, we look like shit.  Our hair either becomes matted down by moisture so much that it looks as though its been glued to our heads or it springs up like an ecstatic ball of frizz.  That's why most of us wear a cap or ball up our hair into a bun.

My hair curls and frizzes like a pussywillow on cocaine.  



                                       


And I'm proud of it.  I wear my hair this way all the time, anyway.  As such, the rain and I get along quite nicely.  And since my hair is happy with all the moisture, so am I.

While heading north in Hoboken, yesterday, I watched (and felt) a gentle drizzle turn into a pounding downpour.  As the rain fell more aggressively, I sought drier refuge beneath a tall, full and beautiful tree.  I wasn't exactly thrilled about the sudden change of weather as it delayed my trip.  But I was eager to take a deep breath and sight of everything that was happening around me.  Maybe I was being stopped in my tracks "for a reason"?

Nah, I wasn't stopped in my tracks for a reason.  

I was stopped in my tracks for many reasons.  Every drop that hit the sidewalk bounced back up into hundreds of tiny, misty droplets.  The streets shone.  The cars slowed down.  Pedestrians disappeared.  The leaves above swayed back and forth.  Birds made me laugh with their cute, though confused or angry, tweets.  



      



For some time, all I could hear was the sound of rain falling onto the pavement and leaves, the birds tweeting, the winds blowing.   

No beeping horns.  No construction noises.  No human voices. 

Nothing else.

Nothing came between me and that moment.  

I couldn't help but imagine the last crappy day I had being washed away...

While I enjoy a rainy evening curled up on the couch and before a very good film-- or, um, doing something else-- like anyone, I also love to experience rain as is.  Cool.  Wet.  On my skin.  In my view.  Within my reach.

Also, as its fallen all week, the rain has resurrected all the flowers and plants out front that withered and died last Winter.  I didn't have to invest in any new plants and flowers or even soil-- all my lovely red, orange and fuschia friends came back for another round of life!