sixty thousand days of rain …

13Nov09

Sometimes I wonder how I was born into this rainy city.

Rain, rain heavy at times, rain, light rain, rain, light rain …

“The beat goes on, the beat goes on
Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La de da de de, la de da de da”

The past oh … twenty years or so … I’ve wondered about this.

I’ve always had plans to bust away from the Pacific Northwest. In high school, it was all about going to college in a sunny state down south …

After visiting Hawaii a couple of times, it was all about becoming Mormon and attending BYU on Oahu. No booze, sex or caffeine, they say? No prob. It’s fricken university in Hawaii …

After graduating and realizing that booze, sex and caffeine were definitely things I enjoyed, it was all about Australia. I had this massive backpacking and hosteling journey mapped out in a notebook; it was full and beautiful and all that was standing in my way of blowing town was money and a long term boyfriend. I wish I still had that notebook just to remember how passionate I was about that …

After the boyfriend and I broke up, I still had no money but had this new motto: Work to party. At that point, I still hated the rain but decided that living in Whistler – 2.5 hours up into the mountains – would be ideal. Hit the slopes all day, work all night, live in a closet with four other people for $500/month. Whatever, there are actual seasons in Whistler … and tons of dry snow, which I live for.

Then I met Colin, fell in love and he also wanted to bust out of Vancouver and that made me love him more. But we remained here and fell in love with the rain. Walks in the rain, falling asleep to the rain, kissing in the rain, collecting rain in a bucket …

And we all know that after K-I-S-S-I-N-G in the rain comes marriage (or not so much in our case but maybe, you never know …) and a baby carriage (have you ever tried pushing a double Peg Perego while holding an umbrella?) and this rain started getting to me … the SAD kicked in big time.

But we’re cool now and this rain, rain heavy at times, rain, light rain, rain, light rain? Ain’t nothing.

Ain’t nothing-ish.

Sixty thousand days of rain is an excellent challenge to both my sanity and my inner Martha.

I mean … the pipe cleaner wreaths, cotton ball snowmen, crock pot stews, shortbread candy canes and LED-lit, Jingle Bells singing daddy ties we will create …

It’s like it’s own little twisted reality show

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