Footsteps on the Roof

Rain. Now that the ides of March approach, the skies deluge us with cold rain. It feels like winter to me, like mid-January back in the redwoods, chill and damp. But we don't have a wood fire here to keep us warm. I think rain is beautiful. Yes, it's grey, but it's far better than the grey when it's cloudy and windy and threatening snow without delivering. Rain washes everything, makes it shine under the street lights, makes the colors deeper, richer, more saturated. Drainage here is wretched, though, so huge puddles collect all over the roads. I love the sound. I love hearing rain parade on my car, volume variant depending on wind gusts. I love sitting in church hearing the little feet on the roof. It's like the angels were dancing a hoe-down tonight. And I love lying in my bed with the winding rushing by, flattening sheets of water against the walls and windows, splattering from the gutters to the pavement, and soothing cacophony of precipitation. Snow is silent, and wonderful in its way of silencing everything else, too. Rain doesn't muffle; it drowns out. I can't hear the noises of the roads because the rain's sound is louder. And I'd far rather hear the rain. So I smile.

I made chocolate chip coconut cookie muffins the yesterday. I wanted sweets, didn't have any, decided I wanted chocolate chip cookies, thought I should add shredded coconut, and realized I probably shouldn't use the one cookie sheet in this house, since it's got stuff burnt onto it from who knows what glutenous things. All I have are bread pans and muffin tins. So I used the muffin tin to keep my cookies poison-free. They turned out reasonably well, considering that I literally threw a bunch of ingredients in a bowl and mixed it up, adding enough water so that it seemed a decent consistency. No recipe, not even as a guideline. But they taste good, aren't dry, aren't flat, and although a bit floury for cookies, are good heated up as dessert muffins. I'm going to get good at this. I hope.

I don't quite feel ready for this week. It shall be very busy, very energy-consuming. My body is still weary, and my mind a bit fuzzy. But the week must be lived regardless. And I want to do it all. I'm not going to be occupied with things I hate, or even dislike. They are challenging things, new things, old things, draining things, but not unpleasant. I'm sure it will squoosh by too quickly to keep track, but that's alright. I don't need to keep track. I don't need to keep tabs on how well every single little thing goes. I need to do what must be done - what I have chosen to make a responsibility - and take care of myself, eat well, sleep enough, relax, and see how I turn up at the other end. No worrying permitted past this point. I won't do FINE (freaked-out, insecure, neurotic, emotional), I will do well. With hope and persistence.

Rain sing me to sleep.