And the skies are grey

When I moved to California over 25 years ago, one of several things that drove me absolutely nuts was the seasonal patterns.   A long dry summer and then a wet winter.   Two seasons--rainy and not.   Or as I used to tell friends and family back east,  "mudslide" and "fire" seasons.    I don't miss winter, and like the verbal concept of most Bay area folks when they refer to the snow as a destination rather than a weather pattern (that is "going to the snow), but the lack of rain over several months tends to wear on my soul to the extent that I feel like the parched earth of a Depression era farm.

We haven't had rain here in a while and its now January.   The promised rain of yesterday has not arrived and the sky hangs with dark clouds seemingly heavy with moisture.  Like a two year old with a coveted toy, it teases with the promise of things withheld.

While drummer boy doesn't particularly like rain, I need rain.  It allows me to slow down, to hibernate inside.  To drink coffee and defer plans.  To read and cuddle with the felines.  Its a panacea for all the ills I have as an introvert.


In other news, I'm back on Weight Watchers and exercising. My bread and potato carb loving German soul is not going to be happy but the clothes are getting tight and I can't live life in Yoga pants.   However, if Tim Gunn ever gave in and let me wear Yoga pants everywhere and not be a fashion failure, I would very much live life in Yoga pants.  As my daughter used to say "for reals".