Wednesday, March 16, 2011

a kiss in the rain among other things

My entire life I have had this strong desire to kiss someone in the rain. You know the picture. Girl in a whimsical dress, Hot Guy pulls her in at the waist, rain shimmers all around them like falling stars from Jupiter. A cool picture. A picture found in many a film, poem, and song. I don't know what it is about the idea that appeals to me. In reality rain is wet and cold and not exactly something you want to dance around in...unless you're Gene Kelly. He made it look good. But I'm not Gene Kelly. I'm just a girl who wanted a kiss in the rain.

And I got one.

Last week.

He kissed me. In the rain.

I wasn't wearing a whimsical fact my attire was Sunday dress and boring choir-required-clothing because I'd just participated in the CES General Broadcast Choir. But I was in my cute tailored black coat from Nordstrom. The rain wasn't sloshing down like it did in the Notebook...but it did shimmer and slip like tears that made trails all over my face and scalp and body...and even though it was wet and cold (I'm always cold outside at night, even in August) it felt GOOD.

Kissing in the rain felt good.

I think I'll do it again. Next time it won't be the soft, silver, blanketing rain. It will be torrents that pulse and drown and swallow us. That might be cool.

Until my Next kiss in the rain this one will be my Only.


Thursday, March 3, 2011

I used to be.

When I was in fourth grade I had an overripe curiosity about crime. I attribute this to my obsession with Nancy Drew novels. I still remember my first experience slipping away into the world of Nancy and Ned, of hidden stairways and lockets and notes that all were clues to solving the unimaginable. I remember the smell of those books, like stale paper and library all packed in one box from a garage sale my mom dragged me to. I remember looking at those yellow hardback covers skeptically when she told me I would love them. But when I settled into my first read, I was hooked. Not only did I devour Nancy's tales, I found I had to have more. Soon I had collected the Nancy Drew Cookbook, and was making "Scary Nests" for breakfast in the mornings. But that still wasn't enough to sate my appetite. I wanted to BE Nancy Drew. Wanted it so bad that I looked at my permed hair and unfortunate teeth in the mirror dreaming up ways that I could get that 1960's bob and perfect smile. Before I knew it I was finding crimes to solve. Everywhere I went was a piece of trash that must be a clue to solving the most recent kidnap case (whatever the case was at the time). I collected litter like a socialite collects sapphires. I cherished broken pieces of glass and random shoelaces like a bag-lady clings to her ten cats. And it wasn't enough I embarked on my mystery-solving, crime-fighting sprees alone. After all, didn't Nancy have a posse? I dragged my sister and friends along with me. It got so bad I even started the "Nancy Drew Club" at school.

There were rules. Not just anyone could be in the "Nancy Drew Club." You had to read a Drew book a week, and make at least one meal from the cookbook a week as well. And if you weren't bringing us new trash to comb could forget about staying in the club.

Little did I know that starting the Nancy Drew Club would land me in TROUBLE. And not the good, crime-solving kind.

One day my beloved fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Cruiser, took me aside.

"Jennifer, I heard you started a club."

I grinned. "Yep."

"That's not allowed. Clubs cause division in classes. I've heard some students feel left out."

What? I was getting scolded for fighting crime? For ridding the world of litter? My oversensitive, never want to let people down heart started quivering. Along with my lip. And tears started coming down my cheeks. I WAS IN TROUBLE?

Nancy had let me down.

The club was abolished.

And I was left to find trash on my own, to solve all the worlds problems alone.

But I didn't let Nancy down. I continued re-reading my bibles in mystery fighting and secretly continued my efforts.


Things I witnessed while "spying"

1. A naked grandpa walking across his living room.
2. A lady who liked to kiss her cat on the mouth. Alot.
3. The kid who practiced piano excessively.
4. A whole lot of white space.