Momma Earth vs. The World Series

There's just something really comforting about a good, dark, October rain. The kind that lasts all day long and will not stop short like a summer shower in June. The kind that makes cars and their drivers forget what to do exactly. The sort of weather that makes dogs sleepy and toddlers sleepier, thus affording a guilt-free Mom's Day to unwind. This is the type of rain that is going on here right now as I type. It is sideways, cold, stomping, and if I may add: a little furious. If I think of our earth as a woman I would have to guess that she is PMS'ing and having herself a good cry over a (half eaten) box of Oreos while watching 'Dirty Jobs.' Achem, not all women need "The Notebook" to connect with their inner woes.

It certainly is not hard to sit back and relax while Momma Earth vents a few of her own sorrows. I know it's the least I can do considering the closest to giving back I've done, as of late, is to avoid taking long baths and to rinse out the many recyclables our household consumes. It's my pleasure to let her unleash a few million soggy clouds as long as she wants and to hope that somehow maybe it helps get us all back on track, just like a no-nonsense pity party is designed to do.

As the trash cans skid across the street outside (still not used to Tues. as "Trash Day"), the flowers bob happily in their beds, and the neighbor's Halloween decorations whip with angst on their hooks I will sit in my office and daydream about Mother Earth entrusting us to stay indoors, observe, and perhaps give thanks for her usual sunny disposition wherever we are in her lap. It's a good place to be and I for one am happy to witness her depth of character today, first-hand, as this rare and lengthy precip-fest wreaks havoc on downspouts, recess, and the World Series. Just like a scorned woman to have the most impeccable timing.