It’s been raining all day.

I like rain on Sunday mornings. I’m not sure what it is about my church that makes it so wonderful on a rainy Sunday, but I just love to look out those big New-England-country-church-style windows and see the rain falling softly outside.

It’s been all gray and cloudy and cold for the last couple of days. I ran with the Fleet Feet crew yesterday morning, went to lunch with Ron, and then came home and curled up in bed for the rest of the day. I basically followed the same kind of schedule today: church, lunch, and nap.

I could have been more productive this weekend, but I didn’t really have to be, and I’ve been really tired lately. Besides … it’s easy to fall asleep listening to the gentle drumbeat of the rain dripping off the roof and hitting the empty tuna cans that Callie (my neighbor’s free-roaming cat, a.k.a. Bombalurina) left behind the elephant ears in the flowerbed. I should probably pick up those cans, but I kind of like the sound they make when the rain hits them, and I’m too cheap to buy a set of rain bells to replace them.

I was up long enough to download some songs off iTunes last night — Marianne Faithfull (“As Tears Go By”), Joan Baez (David’s Album — one of my all-time favorites), a couple of Peter, Paul and Mary songs that I didn’t have (why, why, WHY can’t they get within seven hours of Tulsa once in a while?), a little Joe Cocker, and a dash of Tom Jones (“It’s Not Unusual” — and yes, that does mean I now have all three of the Old Guys Who Inspire Otherwise Responsible, Well-Behaved Middle-Aged Women To Throw Their Panties Onstage* on my iPod).

I wish I had one of those fancy-schmancy toys that will convert vinyl to MP3s so I could put my whole ’60s and ’70s collection on my iPod without having to pay 99 cents a song to do it.


* The other two being Neil Diamond and Barry Manilow. Shut up. You know you love ’em, too. I’m just woman enough to admit it. You ought to just be grateful I didn’t out you by sending you to the official Neil Diamond homepage, (as soon as you click on it, Neil Diamond says one of several automated messages, like, “Hello, friends, and thank you for joining us at NeilDiamond.com”) or worse yet, the first page of Tom Jones’ Web site, which features a video that plays automatically.

Yeah, you’re welcome.