Looks like the deluge predicted for the Valley is starting to let up. Hereabouts, a patter on the roof started around 4 a.m. Rained pretty briskly for most of the morning, and now, pushing noon, it’s still drizzling.
But gray. Warm and gray.
We’re supposed to sing at a wedding this afternoon. What a glum day for a wedding!
Reminds me of the day the ex- and I married. We’d had to put the wedding off and put it off and put it off, because my father was stuck at sea in a major storm off Alaska. Finally we gave up and went ahead without him.
And of course, the day we selected to go ahead with the ceremony willy-nilly: that was the day the storm blew across the desert from the West Coast. It rained just like it’s doing now, all day long and into the night.
I remember thinking that I’d been told rain on your wedding day was a bad augur, an omen of bad luck.
So it seems.
That evening on our way to a fancy restaurant where we proposed to celebrate our match, the car’s wheel hit a curb and busted the tire. Water was rushing over the curb. D-XH got out of the car, in the dark, in the rain, in the flood…in a suit, in his good shoes…to change the tire.
It was the first and the last time I ever heard him use the F-word.
I, however, use it with gay abandon. 😉
Where were we?
Yes. Rain on the roof.
We got to the restaurant, unhappily. Sat through a dinner, pretending to be gay and delighted. Got home and consummated the marriage.
Which lasted 20 years, give or take. Entertainingly enough, we managed to pick gawdawful weather for every major thing we ever did during that union. The day we moved from our apartment into the Encanto house was Arizona’s hottest day on record. Then we picked a day to move out of Encanto up to snooty North Central in the middle of the heaviest rainy spell on record. The movers’ truck broke down in the middle of a major thoroughfare along about midnight; D-XH ended up driving into the black rain in search of them and helping them jump-start the thing, while I huddled on a sofa with our exhausted six-year-old. That was grand fun.
Give me the hottest day on record over the rainiest day on record, any time. As an augur, that is. We loved living in Encanto. I truly hated living in North Central, whose inhabitants surely beat Scottsdale’s in any competition to measure Snooty and Snobby. Lowbrow as I was, I somehow managed to fit in fine with the gentrifying Encanto set. But the got-it-made set in North Central could spot white trash in an instant. What dreadful people!
Sooo…rain on the roof: no, it doesn’t augur well. Not in my experience.