We’re having a lot of rain mostly in piddles, but not puddles, the kind of rain when you wear glasses you squint a bunch and more extremely as you walk along because these microscopic drops eventually adversely impact your vision (insert your “feel like a registered Republican in a primary state” joke here) and you wind up in places you hadn’t intended. Today is a lot colder than it's been so the drops can sting a bit.
I shouldn’t complain, not because I haven’t had enough practice at it (ha-ha thunk! The sound of me laughing my as-head off ), but because it’s the middle of January in the middle of winter in the middle of Norwich, Connecticut, in the middle of New England and we have rain and not snow. Not snow is my favorite kind of weather. Actually “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Bubonic Plague Weather” is my favorite, but not snow is a photo finish second.
I work with someone who believes I should feel cheated because I bought a snow blower three years ago ‘and you hardly ever get to use it.’ Yeah, it sucks to be me. I’m so disconsolate I’m organizing a block-size pity party for myself about that. As long as I don’t have to reschedule it because of snow, and no one arrives for it in a sleigh, I’m delirious with delight over what I don’t have to use.
None of that has anything to do with this. I was speaking of places I hadn’t intended to travel and I wound up yesterday someplace I’ll blame on a Jersey Girl (actually a woman, sorry Tom) I’ll never meet and of whom you may not have heard (yet) but probably will after she grabs a Grammy this year, Linda Chorney. She cracks me up with her blog but what I most appreciate is the sound her music and lyrics make together. As someone who’ll always regard New Jersey as my home state she makes music that tells me I’m there, even when I’m not.
And yet, that’s still not it. Actually, this is. This fellow writes so effortlessly, he makes me want to unplug my keyboard, dig a hole in the backyard and bury it because I’m really wasting my time. And while I appreciate the offer of your shovel, I was (of course) speaking metaphorically. Nice try. Snark much?
Sometimes the path less traveled proves to be a trap but other times it reveals itself to be a treasure.-bill kenny