Singing in the Rain!

It's amazing what just a few or 17 degrees will do to a commute. Life has been so full of lovely timess with friends, the Mulder Family, drives and days with 3.5 year olds who refuse to say thank you and repeat all you say instead (until they really want it and miraculously remember what the "magic word" is), and hours upon hours of dog trainings/walking/feedings, that those 30 minutes early in the morning and right after work have fallen to the wayside of my memory bank. Several weeks ago all I could remember was how cold and wet the mornings were:



On one hand because I am rushing to or fro, I focus less on the annoyances of helmetless, mp3 wearing "squirrels" sharing the bike lanes or the cars that don't want me there and instead press on towards my destination with no time to lose.

Except for a precious few lovely days when Joel has met me and we bike together, joking under the sunshine - that rare rare sunshine as of late.

Or yesterday.

Yesterday the heavens opened up, as the term so aptly states. The city grew loud with cars and sirens and the palpable fear of pedestrians running for cover while sheets of rain came at them from all directions. There must have been something in that energy and in the air surrounding those drops because I lost about 20 years in 20 seconds. Suddenly I reverted to the stormy summer days in Missoula and being yelled at by motorists for playing in intersection puddles (they were the size of lakes I tell you!) In all of those moments, where I saw not one other cyclist once I left downtown, I shared the road nicely with the cars and made my way with renewed memory of why I love biking instead of mass transit or driving.

Out of my mouth came songs about rain, songs by Mariah Carey, songs substituting Penny instead of "Honey" (awwww sugar sugar. You know the one right?) Meanwhile I laughingly sprinted through puddles; covered my shoes and knee high socks with grit and sand. I reminded mother earth (out loud) that she owed me a tailwind from my morning torture down Milwaukee Avenue and finally got in in the last push homeward.

If every day could be that joyful and make me happy to be the crazy lady who talks about the joy of feeling like a kid again - I would never again have a problem with this city and it's snail pace at progressiveness.

For now - I've got my fix. Let's hope it sticks around for a while.

Wishing you all the best whatever your forecast calls for...

Love love love,

K.