I have an odd sort of relationship with weather.
~I adore lightning storms. I have an irrational fear that strong winds are going to drop a 70 year old oak tree on my kids' bedroom.
~I like the music made by torrential rain. I'm terrified of tornados and have the tendency to make my kids sleep in the downstairs hallway if a tornado is possible within three or four states.
~I am fanatical about 90° or hotter weather. I seem to be convinced that my children will have heatstrokes within 10 minutes of stepping outside in direct sunlight.
~I love blizzards. I despise temperatures any cooler than 80° and have been known to walk around the house wrapped in heavy wannabe mink blankets from September to April.
Needless to say, I'm kind of like an indoor pet in a severe storm. You know... the ones who sit with their noses pressed against the window staring at the raindrops and lightning bolts then zip under the nearest couch or bed at any sound that might be associated with said weather only to zip right back to their starting position until the next boom.
Well since it's Sunday our day started at the usual time: rough estimate of "the buttcrack of dawn". I looked outside to see sunshine just peeking over the houses across the street, then went about my business dragging the rest of the clan out of their beds and wrestling small children into clothing suitable for church. Once we were ready to head out Steve opened the door to a wall of water cheerfully offering to drown us on the way to our vehicle. Where was our umbrella? In my car. Out in the driveway. Getting rained on.
Steve came up with a wonderful solution. He slipped into the garage and shoved a few things around then emerged triumphantly with a patio table umbrella. Redneck much? Okay, so we were able to get to his car all at once with only minimal soaking of the footwear. I'm pretty sure I heard an aggravated voice somewhere up in the stormclouds muttering "Really??".
Church ended and we prepared to swim back through the parking lot to our car. We were greeted with bright sunshine, birds singing, happy flowers, and every other indication that it was a lovely summer day out of one of those Disney family films. It was my turn to mumble "Really??".
Well, it is now evening and we are all preparing to wind down. I just happen to hear that wonderful rhythm of heavy rain pounding on our roof and windows, so I peer out the window to watch. I am instantly blinded by dazzlingly bright sunshine.
Huh? Torrential downpour. Beautiful, glaring sunshine. At the same time.
And I thought I was confused. Mother Nature apparently has issues.
Oh look! A rainbow!