Rain, November, 21

A sizable rain is falling as I write this in the early morning. No light yet. I say sizable, because that means we’ll talk about it later today as we adjust ourselves to rain and more rain.

I have new rain shoes, magnificent Clark’s Wave Walkers, waterproof, brown, with suede, a perfect fit. Brand new and found in a thrift store for $15. They must have originally cost $150. I rank them well up there as one of my greatest Oregon Coast store finds. I’ll walk them in rain until they disintegrate.

The sound of rain on the roof of my new domicile sounds like a little man is raking the roof with a metal rake. It is an entirely new sound. I like it.

I haven’t lived a good rain story in a long time.

I haven’t read a good rain line in a long time.

I have a new job: An Oregon foundation contracted with me to call up prospective coastal home buyers from certain zip codes in California and leave them long voice mails that warn about the depressing effects of rain on their potential investments and relationships. I like the work.

This is a read-two-books-rain day. I’ve got Henry Miller, a historical novel set in the Napoleonic War and some needle-craft magazines ready to go.

Would I give up rain for love in the sun? Sounds like an interesting premise for a Hallmark Channel romance movie that will never be made. About the snow, yes, but never the rain.

Could I write anything interesting where it barely rains?

A reader of the rain book sent me a link to his band’s unreleased song about rain. I liked it.

Only a few rain books left. They have put me in touch with some truly incredible people.

I’d like to teach my rain writing workshop to an incarcerated population.

I met an old man on a hike who said he was a “feet man” when it came to rain, not inches. Oh, I loved that line.

Light is coming up. Time to get out and walk in rain. Join me. Write me of your experience.