Fay Rain?

OK. I don't want to get anybody too terribly excited, but:


That's our rainfall forecast for the week. Those blues and purples and reds push us into the severals of inches. Like more than two inches. This week. This one upcoming. I'm supposed to sit in lawn chairs Tuesday evening at the 27215s last home game, but I'll trade that for two inches of rain. Or three. Or really any rain at all, if we're going to be honest about this, and I guess we are.

Ribs and cold beer on Carr Street to end the summer tonight. Those selfsame lawn chairs in the back of the pickup, facing west into a strange Fay-damaged sky. School starts for all those barbecuers tomorrow. It starts for me in a week. I'm supposed to be at a kick-off meeting tomorrow. Can't go. I just cannot do it. I can't sit in that hall and hear what year this year's freshmen were born in, can't look at PowerPoints that say what TV shows they do or don't have any memory of, what fancy technological innovations they've never known life without. This year's freshmen have never seen -- gasp! -- phones with cords!!! Have never -- double gasp -- faxed anything!!!

Please light me on fire, please, instead of sending me to that meeting.

Let's all of us instead look out south and west for Fay and what's left of Fay and whatever else comes our way. I'll take any rain at all. It doesn't have to have a name. Give me rain and keep me out of that meeting, and you can have anything else you like.