Today is January 8, 2015. I am alive and well.

It has rained all week, which is rare, really rare, for Phoenix, Arizona. There’s been moments when the rain comes down like a hand letting go of pebbles. But mainly it has been like a broken spigot turned low, showering spritz like, and sideways.

I don’t like being out in the rain. My hair gets fluffy and frizzy, with my pony tail looking like a tired tennis ball. Guy and I had Shi Tzus. Walking them in the rain was painful; their long hair getting soaked and matted. Guy would try to brush them out sometimes with little success. Sometimes he had to take scissors and cut out the mattes, leaving the little dog lopsided. One side long. One side short.

Guy took the dogs when he left. I have indoor cats, so no worries of animals in rain. I do, though, miss the little dogs.

I like being inside, watching the rain come down. I like the dampened days when the clouds sleep low in the sky creating a gray day. Everything feels in place; heavy, but in place. Focused. Unlike the energy of the sun inviting manic moments that leave people dancing with the light, chasing the speed of hummingbirds.

I was thrilled when I left work last night at 7 p.m. that the rain had paused, the clouds not wringing themselves out. It meant that my library books weren’t endanger of ill health and my cell phone would stay dry for the next call. There’s always a next call or text. The magic ting from the phone alerts me to that fact. Another person is here in cyber space, giving me cause to smile. (I don’t know if cyber space is the right choice to words).

I am off work today, able to watch the weather from my bedroom window. It is gray with periodic bursts of drizzle; the broken spigot works well.


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