This has got to be the worst start to summer that I've ever been alive to witness.
It's been raining steadily since February.
It became snow at the end of March and left us with 16 inches of joyous white crap to deal with for a week.
It quickly melted back into the earth because the rain returned.
"Oh, hey rain. Where have you been these past 48 hours?"
"Bowling? You don't say?"
"Maybe you should have joined a traveling league and hightailed it out if here for the next 8 months...jackass."
So, I'm sure you can tell that this rain has bothered me a bit.
I have been trying to stay busy, though.
My laundry is caught up and I've sharpened all of the pencils in the antique Mexican bowl in case anyone wants to poke out their eyes from looking at the dismal weather radar again.
I can't believe the suicide rate isn't up in this area because of it.
Unemployment has nothing on dreary, rainy weather.
I have a friend who's the local news anchor and I can't believe she hasn't done a story on this yet.
But, then again, she's lost her mind for a totally different reason.
She has a growing baby sucking her brain away in what many moms call "baby is sucking my brain away syndrome."
i.e. she's pregnant.
I feel bad for the farmers around here.
I feel bad about all of mankind really.
Without the crops that the farmers around me are trying to grow, y'all are gonna starve this fall.
These crops of soy and corn that block my views at rural stop signs in July and that the deer like to munch on are this country's (as well as the world's) bread and butter.
But this rain is preventing crops from being planted and then what does get planted can get washed directly back out of the soil.
There goes the bread and butter.
I may have to eat my goats soon.
When you are a parent and it is constantly raining you get two scenarios to deal with.
Scenario One:
The kids are inside too much and in your hair.
Like, really in your hair.
I have been "the lady who visits Zoe and Gigi's hair salon which is really the kitchen table" one too many times.
I can feel the hairs being pulled put of my scalp from super pointy bobby pins being plucked out by chubby 4 year old hands in my sleep.
Not to mention the makeup job I get from my makeup artist daughter who runs Tramps By Zoe.
Scenario Two:
If you keep sending kids out in the rain you get children with foot rot and it starts to smell like wet dog in every room.
Yes, wet kid and wet dog smell the same after awhile.
Especially if it's been raining since February.
I'm half expecting the Cullens to move in next door.
