when it rains -- love it, hate it.

It's raining again. I'm not surprised; it is, after all, the only other season we have apart from the summer. I should get used to it, but I just can't.

I wonder if the rains were always this way. It just never seems to rain the same way twice (to borrow a bit from an old song about love). It's weird now, because (generally, at least) we get some sunshine in the morning till after lunch, then the dark clouds start making their entrance . Then it gets so hard to breathe, the air being so humid. A few rumbles of thunder, the rush of some (and I mean some) cool air, then it starts. It either all just comes crashing down, like someone emptying a heavy bucket of water, or it plays a little rhythmic beat, doing crescendos and suddenly going all quiet with just a bit of dainty spraying.

So everyday, we get a bit of sunshine, and then a bit of the rains, sometimes even floods. Then night time is anybody's guess. It is better than rain all day and all night for weeks.

It has it's purpose and I appreciate how it complements and balances our lives here in this planet. Still, as much as it's been part of my life, I just haven't been able to have just as much as a constant feeling toward it. I love it... and at times, I really can't find anything to like about it at all.

my mind trips

Circumstances give me very little opportunity to leave the space my shoe-loving feet have carved out in this minuscule place in the world where I live.

Around the city, to and from nearby beaches and vacation spots, in and out of the kids' school, shopping places, coffee places, the gym. Really, the radius my steps have been confined to, when you compare it to the frequent fliers or missionaries of this world, may seem almost insignificant. The path is worn, yet there's always more to see, so I'm not complaining. And just like a worn-out sweater, rug, blanket, or pillow it can get comfortable and safe.

There are days, though, when restlessness creeps in and my regular places aren't an option. The bathroom, which offers solace most times, loses its appeal. Even shopping becomes a chore. Then I become creative. I go tripping... in my mind.

channeling Dear Abby

"...I can't control nobody but me. So if you care, let them work it out..."

Comforting words in this Sergio Mendes song. I wish I could just let things and people be...

Is it meddling? Is it trying to run their lives? Is it attempting to delay if not completely change the course of the inevitable? People come to you and share a dilemma, a run-in or argument with someone, something that's been bugging them -- what do you do?