Mary Ann Hayes

You didn’t know we had one, did you? A “sun”, that is. You know that thing I’m talking about. We all learned about it in elementary school. It’s part of the solar system – our planet has one of  it’s very own. You see it painted bright yellow by artists all around the world, or at least by those who have actually seen it.

All those planets out there, with their own suns and moons. I remember the lesson quite well. It was in the time of my life when the sun made an appearance on a semi-regular basis. Of course, I didn’t live where I do now. I didn’t live here in the very green Pacific Northwest.

I’ve not forgotten the days of my youth, warm sunny days. Dry air, dry lawn, dry hair, dry – ness. Yes, there was a time when things outside the house were dry. Not wet and soggy and muddy and moldy. Not damp and dark and cold. No; dry and warm and…dry.

Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I would never complain about our lack of it. After all, we are greener than green here and supple and moist. Our skin looks youthful even when we’re old. No drying out and flaking away, not on our sun’s watch that is.

My daughter has been told she has too much moisture in her body. She’s water logged. Humm…  It has been suggested she eat dry foods to see if she can dry out a bit. She’s like a sponge: absorbing all the humidity around her to the point that she is oozing water from her being.  Maybe if she lies flat on the floor I can use a big rolling pin to squish all the water out. The result would be flood damage in my house and my daughter would be left to stand on her own two feet only by being tacked to the wall in my office, like a life size paper doll. At least she’d be dried out and could go back to eating what she wants.

Yesterday, my husband and I were driving somewhere and the sun snuck out and surprised us with no warning. We were completely unprepared. Needless to say, we reacted like moles. We pulled over immediately, unable to function in the unfamiliar brilliance. We groped in the glove box and console and under the seats until we came up with two sorry pair of sunglasses. We blew off the dust and grim and put them on our faces and sighed with relief, lowering our shoulders out of our ears and pulling our hands away from our faces.  Whew!

It didn’t last for long though. Within minutes we pulled the shades off and tossed them back where we found them. If it ever happens again though, we’ll be prepared. It’s just that it had been so long since the last sneak attack, we’d forgotten where things were.

Take care fellow webbed-ones. Eat something dry.

Later,

Mary Ann