I am a closet (well not anymore, I guess) Josh Groban fan. This evening while running errands, I was listening to that song “Remember When it Rained” on repeat. I LOVE that song. What I love most about it is how passionate it sounds. It always makes me think of smooching in the rain.
I know that’s not what that song’s about but that’s what I think of every time. While listening, I always write book chapters in my head where two people come to each other in the rain and admit their feelings for the first time without saying a word……ahhhh…
This is the little slice of dreamland that caused me to miss my exit as I was driving to the church bookstore tonight to have my new scriptures engraved with my name.
You probably think that since Dan and I live in Seattle, all we ever do is kiss and schmoozle out in the rain. Not so, my friends, not so. In fact, I have never been kissed in the rain. The idea of it seems strangely appealing but in practice, I’m not so sure.
I once saw an interview with Kirsten Dunst and Tobey Maguire where they said that the upside-down-kissing-in-the-rain scene from Spiderman was the least romantic, most awful kissing scene in the history of film. They say he nearly drowned, hanging upside down like that with rain running up his nose.
Aaanny-who. I like the thought.
The post I had been working on for today was a tender tribute to the first three years of Laylee’s life. It is cute and sweet but I feel uncomfortable posting it after she spent today as a screaming ball of chaos (to steal a phrase from Stephanie), was sent to bed an hour early for kicking me and then peed on the floor purposefully as I was helping put on her pajamas. She has been so unbelievably sweet the past few weeks.
A fickle hood is toddler-hood. Maybe tomorrow will be better.