and she said.. "how you interpret the dream is probably more important than the dream itself"

Behind every magnificent storm there is a trail of disaster..

Or so I am told. On my way up through the Eastern Townships of Quebec I got nailed by a big thunderstorm bumbling down 10 East. Probably the biggest of the year for me, so far. The rain came down in first little droplets then in ever increasing sizes until large sheets of jelly-bean sized water dollups came crashing down on my windshield. This in itself was not so much a problem but then the windows started fogging like mad, which, again, was not so much a problem in and of itself until I discovered that my climate control was stuck on cold.. the same cold that the rain was pelting onto my windshield on the other side of it causing severe condensation on the inside of the car. So here I was on the 10 with no view, no way of sticking my head out the window (try that with a downpour at 70mph), and I have a pair of extra pants in my car that I am viciously wiping the windshield's innards with. I consider, briefly, stopping on the side of the road but the idea gave me nightmares of the blizzard I had hazzarded only a few years ago in which I rode side to side on the highway at 3 mph so as I could follow the rumble strips. Angle left for awhile, hear a rumble, turn to the right, repeat. Slow moving. But this was no snow we are talking about here, not on this trip. This was just good old rain and coming down mighty hard. I inched inched my way through inching inching ever so carefully inched inched myself into a clearing among the clouds, long enough to catch my breath anyway, and it was brilliant.. until I hit the next batch of storm clouds - the ones who would pelt down with m&m-sized hail.

It was a magnificent weekend regardless and now, on a Monday night (tuesday morning, i know) we're sitting here happily finished with our green thumb project, repeing the benefits as we speak, and otherwise... I'd be out like a light.