Ah, vacation. Reminds me of a line from John Steinbeck's "Travels with Charley." Poor guy got a flat tire somewhere along the coast highway. "It was Sunday and it was raining and it was Oregon." In Oregon, as Steinbeck knew all too well, if you can't dance in the rain, you can't dance.
As you would expect, with vacation imminent, the storms have descended. They sit off the coast in a big lineup waiting to come ashore. We'll get rain. Mist. Showers. Precipitation. Then the wind will come up and we'll get not just vertical rain but horizontal rain.
If we waited for the rain to stop before doing anything, we wouldn't do anything. We know better. We know Oregon. Whether the rain is gentle or has a mean streak, it is still rain. Oh, it will quit someday, July 4 maybe and we'll see a UFO — the sun.
Teri and I are on vacation. We love Oregon. We love the rain. And a little precipitation — or a lot — won't stop the crows from cavorting in the treetops having a grant time. And a little rain won't stop us from each day having a first dance.
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