Right, and if anyone (ANYONE) complains about a drought this summer, I'll spit. I don't care how calloused their hands may be, how the hard lines of their faces mimic the plowed furrows in the fields that aged them. I wouldn�t care if Tom Joad started complaining about a drought to me. I may have to make an exception for Rose of Sharon though. Or the Farmer�s Wife (boy, did I love, love that series. frontline rocks me so hard). But that�s the extent of it.

On the flip, remember when you laid your cheek on your desk in elementary school and listened? The hollow, metal sounds you heard were like a tiny far away anvils dropping in a cavernous tunnel�some distant mine. And when you lifted your cheek up, there was a small rounded half-moon misted onto the top of your desk where you had just been breathing. Remember that? Rainy days make me think of that�maybe because we didn�t have recess and stayed inside playing 7-Up.