Rain Rain on My Head

Again...

I don't mind the rain, if it would only rain in areas where needed--like my flower garden and not the grassless areas of my yard so my shoes won't get muddy. And it would be nice if the rain parted for you when you had to walk in it, especially the sideways rain. God should have consulted me before designing rainfall.

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I haven't heard John Mayer on the radio in a while... guess he's over being infatuated with me. I used to hear him 2 times a day! Good thing he's moved on.... it would never have worked.

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Speaking of the radio...on the way to work this morning the DJ on one of the rock stations was talking about public displays of affection...mainly public marriage proposals. He reads women's magazines and then polls the audience on what they think of the articles. Today's poll asked if public marriage proposals were proper. He recorded the calls and played them back. I noticed most of the yes answers were from ladies under 35. The older crowd said no.

I am with the older crowd. If a love proposed to me at a ball game or at a night club or anywhere that has a large screen or a microphone, I would run away. You can't do that. What if the engagement was broken later on... think of how that would look. "Oh there's no wedding? Ahhhh...too bad...didn't he propose to you at the Cubs game on live TV?"

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I'm in a good mood again today. No outbursts of song! Trying to keep balanced and not be overly joyous and smiley. Don't want the Weekday God to rain down on me with a day like last Thursday. So I'm taking moments to complain about something.

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NC Minor League Baseball..I just realized that it's all around me. And I've never known it. Wilson, New Bern, Fayetteville, Kinston, Myrtle Beach, Gastonia.... and the list goes on! There are more minor league teams than Major league--which is zero for NC....I guess it just shows if you build it ...they will come.

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I have a theory I hope to investigate soon... that pale shades of lipstick don't leave an obvious trail and will come handy in times where discretion is needed.

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I must not be a true poet/writer/artist. I don't care when Walt Whitman was born or when he died. I don't know Stephen King's middle name nor Whistler's mother's eye color or if Van Gough liked salmon. I write. I paint. And I don't think I need to know personal histories of the Famous to do each.

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Here's some Sherrie trivia. When I was a little girl , I thought humming birds were fairies and praying mantis were Satan.