Rain, Rain, Go Away!!!

I start wearing flip flops as soon as the snow on the ground is gone. Well, gone in most places. As long as I am not up to my ankles in the white stuff, I am in Capri pants and sandals. I look like a tourist from the North Pole most days. While others still have their hoods up, I can be found, wandering around with my toes waving freely in the wind. I am not sensitive to cold, never have been- in fact, I didn't even break out my winter coat when the whirling winds whipped around me at -40 this past snowy season. I firmly believe my roundness and tolerance to cold can be traced to having a polar bear tangled up illegitimately somewhere in my ancestry.

So it is with astounding dismay that I have to announce that I have been adversely affected by the weather. Sunburn? No. As much as I dread the heat of summer, I can safely tell you that I am not suffering anything similiar to a case of heat stroke.

At this point, you must be asking yourself...'Well if she isn't feeling chilled, and she has yet to break a summer sweat, what could be the issue?"

My issue is this. Mold. I am moldy. It has rained everyday since my Capri panted body and sandaled feet stepped off my flight from Edmonton. I lived in Newfoundland for 25 years. I am well aware of the fact that the weatherman could go on strike and CBC could safely play tapes of Carl Wells as a young man and would still be incredibly accurate about the 7 days of falling rain that we were destined to recieve.

I can't even get annoyed like all the men, on all the wharves, comment 'Some weather'. I can't try to be the funny man at the mall who says, 'Great weather for ducks'. I can't even grumble when I get caught in a down pour and my hair undoubtedly goes curly beyond repair. All I can do is lift my arms in the air and look in wonderment at the sky. And while all the world might wonder if I am asking God to show us the sun so all of my Newfoundland portrait bookings can go ahead as planned, they will be half right. I will be talking to God. But instead of asking for a sun shiny day on the Avalon Pennisula, I will do the logical thing. I will be asking God to send me some common sense. So that next time I pack my suitcase to head to Newfoundland, I will pack a pair of long pants and perhaps a pair of sneakers.