Cheerleading Nationals Jacket

Esta tarde vi llover

The course was 30.

Rain in the city, rain March: blessing, freshness, smell of wet earth ... At last a little much water after drought. Good, this is what the country needed. And my plants, long time ago that not watering.



ecological optimism, a way of seeing things. Celebrate, think and let me try a strawberry red umbrella.


Rain in the city total discomfort, flooding streets and sidewalks, muddy shoes, and hair soaked paper as hedgehogs. Keeping pace with the elusive rain-trap pits and I miss the office work.


But it takes little. It's just an urban pessimism attack, another way of seeing the same thing. Go with the first sunny ... (Although to shorten the road, I decide to comfort me with glamorous: a black raincoat, down to his feet).

April defoliated trees and sidewalks are filled with piles of dry leaves that attempt, in vain, to discipline a broom. Thick clouds of gray smoke announce more rain. And very cold.

Halfway between optimism and the complaint I make against the stark autumn came. I'm not missing weapons: blood red shield and a shiny black armor.

How to capitalize on the rain? The option for the consumer is no longer viable (and yet, what good would come a good rain boots to splash in puddles ...) The water for the field, the cows and flowers in the pots already, I no longer enough as a reward. Will the cold numbed my green streak.

walk down the middle of the sidewalk to avoid the storm that rages from the rooftops. Some outlets seem powerful whirlpools. I still looking for options to take advantage of the rain gathering water to wash your hair (very Ingalls right?), foster a romantic siesta (unlikely), eating fried cakes (strictly forbidden).

Brainstorming, brainstorming. But I have umbrellas, or touch me ideas. It strikes me that something could hum and dance to the style of Fred Astaire. Immediately my mood plummets overwhelmed by such a lack of creativity.

The conclusion reached, obvious, predictable, the limit of endurance: a rain me not inspire me.

As the song remember?

Although ... stop the presses. I see light at the end of the tunnel.

Birabent If Antonio could exchange the lack of inspiration in the most popular hit of his career well I can try to imitate me and let me soak the Muses.

I get home, I wrap the hair with a towel and turn on the compu. Click something, delete it again and again to erase.

Well, soak, soak what is said may have been asking too much. The Muses barely splashed me, but enough to return to my daily obsessions corner after five months of absence.

Almost as good as a new pair of boots.

And you, what happens with the rain?

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