Rain-soaked moods

I about went stir crazy Friday after going outside in the pouring rain two or three times, only to come back inside soaked. I knew I was gonna get really ugly if I didn't find some indoor project to help me forget about our Bonner County bog hole overflowing its banks all around our house.

Haven't seen water drip down like this since one month of June back in the early '80s. I remember the year distinctly because it rained every day all day, and I had my little kids (ages 4 and 5) in the house with me all day, every day. That was the same year the pigs got loose, and we chased them through the muck for hours on end before cornering them in the barn, where they stayed until the barnyard dried out in July.

That was also the year we brought the little rubber raft into the house so the kids could pretend they were rafting in the living room. And because the rubber raft was in the living room, Annie lost a tooth prematurely. She and her brother were playing with the thin rope on the raft when Annie grabbed on to it with her teeth about the same time Willie pulled real hard on the other end.

I was in the kitchen when Annie walked in with a frantic expression, tears streaming down her face and two hands cupping her mouth. When I asked what was wrong, she removed her hands and a river of blood came pouring from her mouth. A lower tooth was gone. She held it in her hands---root and all.

"Willie did it," she tattled. I went looking for Willie. It took a while to find him hiding under the bed in one of the bedrooms. He knew he'd done something bad. Well, we didn't have time to worry about chastisement at that moment.

A baby tooth had come out, root and all, and Annie had at least a couple of years before its replacement would appear. So, I started calling dentists' offices to figure out what to do next. Unfortunately, the incident took place at a time when all dentists in town were heading home from a long day's work, so a noticeable gap remained in Annie's lower bridge until about second grade. We blamed it on the rain.

I also blamed the rain for my addiction to the soap opera "All My Children." Since I had to stay inside my house with all my children (two of them) for days on end, I had to do something to avoid pulling my hair or the rest of their teeth out. So, every day after a morning of expectation, I sat transfixed to the show as Tad, Greg and Jenny and Palmer did their thing.

My fixation with the show continued----so badly that, for nearly a year, I'd come home from school during lunch hour to catch 15 minutes of the show, which is usually plenty for following soap operas. I still blame it on the rain, even though, during my later life, rain has not caused me to revert to soap operas to maintain my sanity. I have no kids at home except Kiwi, so most of the time I can leave the house.

On Friday, I took Kiwi with me and headed to Wal Mart to buy some paint. I picked out the brightest yellow hue I could find, added a painting kit, complete with tray, rollers, drop cloth, etc. It took about ten minutes for the lady to mix the paint and another ten, standing at the check-out stand waiting to make the purchase.

As I wheeled my cart outside with my jacket hood up and ready for the next deluge, I marveled that the rain had stopped. Hmm. All that was needed was for me to spend $50 on paint and supplies, and I could stop the rain. Well, that revelation did not last long. Raindrops continued about two hours later, so I got started with the bathroom painting project, determined that at least I could enjoy something bright while visiting my commode.

I painted part of the room Friday night while it rained and the rest of it all day yesterday while it rained. Occasionally, I would take a break to check my email and read blogs and their growing list of comments. After a day of reading some of the nastiest, lowdown mean, venom-filled remarks by some blog commenters, I decided that everyone who blogs while raining needs to go buy some paint.

I cannot believe how brave some people become in the safety of their own home where they think they have a license to make everybody else's life ten times more miserable as their own through personalized attacks. There's a difference between spirited commentary on a topic of common interests and mean-spirited abuse toward others who have done nothing other than to join in on the discussion.

Blogging definitely is a good rainy-day sport, but it seems like the participants could do a much better job of regulating their emotions and showing respect for their fellow bloggers. And, for those whose moods get so bad during these days of gloomy, ugly weather, for heavens sake, don't take it out on others who are doing their best to brighten their day through civil conversation via the blog network.

Go buy some paint for your bathroom. Or, tune in to "All My Children." Either could work wonders.