I hope it doesn’t rain.

It’s been a month.  matsprouts

No, that’s wrong–It’s been more than a month since I’ve written.

Excuses: Paddle Georgia happened and then the recovery.  We went on vacation.  I was thinking about the nature of marriage because I’m officiating Kerry and David’s wedding this weekend.  I was watching it rain. I was watching Disney’s Pocahontas.  I like that movie because Pocahontas doesn’t marry John Smith at the end, which would be sad under normal Disney circumstances, but John Smith is played by Mel Gibson, who says stuff like “You have no idea what I’m saying right now, do you?” Dick.

Back to the rain: It’s been raining–once a day at the very least.  The doormat at my office has sprouted little green shoots.  I got stuck in a rainstorm yesterday and just stood on the railroad tracks with a dog named YOLO who was lost.  I only know he was lost and that his name was YOLO because I saw a LOST DOG sign for him up on a telephone pole.  He wouldn’t come to me even though I squatted down and grinned, even though I whistled and said his name in a high voice.  Sometimes a dog just won’t come.

I’ve been listening to a song on repeat written by somebody who drank himself to death, which sounds exactly as disagreeable as getting rained on to death.

I just wrote the ceremony to Kerry and David’s wedding based entirely on a metaphor that requires the wedding to be held outside.

I hope it doesn’t rain.


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