It’s raining and the flowers are blooming. Living south of the Mason-Dixon has it’s perks. There really are flowers when Spring arrives. As a kid in New Jersey I used to look at the flowers on my teacher’s calendar and then gaze out the window to snow and wonder where it is that flowers start to bloom in March and are fully dazzling by May. It’s right here in North Carolina. So bring on the showers. Well, sort of.

As a metaphor ’showers’ are not so exciting. Really? I have to endure cold wet drizzle in order to have flowers in my life. Yuck. Haven’t I had years of tedious showers?

Yikes! I should have been born a duck. Watch them the next time you go to a duck pond. They are oblivious to the rain. That would be nice. But the more showers I endure the worse my attitude toward them. I know I can choose to think like a duck, but I am not a duck. I don’t have webbed feet and I really hate worms and grubs. Oh, wait I like Thai garlic duck, so if I am what  I eat…?

And how did we get to April already? I am still forgetting and writing 2010 on my checks. That can mean only one thing…I’ve become my grandmother. Okay, that clue and the age spots on my hands which have slowly crept from my wrists down to the first knuckle on my fingers apparently making a dash for my finger tips. Soon I will in fact be a leopard who can change her spots, well at least I can become more ’spotty’. (Another metaphor?)

Seriously, I am getting too old for life’s showers. I finally understand the hermits in caves and the little old ladies who peek out from their dingy lace curtains living the same routine day after day.  Maybe ‘Elenore Rigby’ decided to swap chaos for loneliness. At least you know what the day is going to bring.

I am reminded of the Oklahoma saying, “Don’t pee down my leg and tell me it’s raining.” I am not totally sure what that means but the imagine makes me laugh. It’s like my life.

 I am getting weary of life’s. But at age 60 there is good news. I not a senior citizen yet. This is  according to the movie theater who won’t give me a discount until age 62. (AARP not withstanding who wanted me to join up with their gi-normous lobby at age 45.  I declined. )

Here’s the bargain I want to strike with God: Less showers and I will live with a few less flowers. Can I get an amen???