God Is In The Rain

“God is in the rain”.  I heard that quote yesterday and it struck me.  As I walked through the quad this morning, it struck me again.  It was one of those mornings where it wasn’t too hot, but just right. The air smelled fragrant and reminded me of grade school days, where I’d walk to the bus stop in the morning and sniff the air. It just took me back to a moment in time where there was nothing to think about but how great the morning was and how wonderful the air smelled (my mind was always full of pressing matters when I was a kid…the curse of living with the AntiChrist).

I like the quote because it basically spells out why I don’t believe in organized religion. My stance is that God is all around me, in the rain, the trees, in tequila, in other people, in the act of sex.  Why do I need to be in a church hearing some supposed expert tell me about God, when all I really have to do is open my eyes to see God; listen to hear God; concentrate to feel God.  After being raised a Jehovah’s Witness and being surrounded by hypocrites (it’s rare to find a true witness), I don’t care to expose myself to the sniping, gossiping, back-stabbing hierarchy that you find in all churches. Life is too short for dealing with that stuff!

Tomorrow, God is in Lake Tahoe and that’s where I’ll go to re-establish my one-on-one relationship with him.  Looking forward to seeing the fireworks from a boat and having the best seat in the house…ok, one of the best. Although NorCal isn’t the greatest place to live in California, it is one of the better places to live in the US. It’s an hour and a half from Tahoe…about the same distance to San Francisco; Access to the greatest wineries in Sonoma, Napa, El Dorado, Amador, Calaveras, Placer and San Joaquin counties. So we generally run the gamut as far as activities to keep us busy (snow/water skiing, rafting, kayaking, street/mountain biking, hiking, fishing, hunting..and the list goes on).  There’s always some festival going on and our access to farmers markets is exceptional.  My complaint doesn’t stem from my actual location, more like the state I live in being so damned liberal!  I just know I’m not going to run into God in the halls of my state capitol. 

Today, my co-worker “J” (yes Peeps…I KNOW!!!  Too many frakking “J’s” in my life) was in rare form.  He says they don’t have “my kind” in his neighborhood.  I asked him what is “my kind” because that this point my mind is running rampant with what “my kind” could actually be.  Hmmm..American Mutt? Brown eyed Cali Girls? Brunettes? Outspoken, Militant Bitches? Women who own guns? Conservatives? WHAT???  He says “my kind” is the kind that lures young men.  HUH??  Lures young men where? How young are we takin here?  Which young men are we talking about?  Where does he get these outrageous assumptions???

The youngest guy I’ve been with was 13 years younger than me (he’s the one with the washboard abs..NOT the one who’s butt I plastered on the blog yesterday). I had the opportunity for someone 16 years younger a couple of months back, but he just didn’t do it for me. Now, the youngest guy…Nope, can’t even call him a guy, we have to say “boy”, that was hoping to score with me was 15 years of age in Cabo last year.  I think I told ya’ll that story, didn’t I?  

His Dad “B” and he came to the condo and needed a place to stay, due to a family argument. After his Dad passed out, the boy stayed up for awhile and was busy talking with “J”, so I said that I was going to take a shower and head to bed.  I was on top of the bed in boyshort undies and a tank watching TV when the door opens, and the boy comes in, climbs up on to the bed, scoots up next to me and proceeds to tell me how he can make me “happy” and how “good” he is at the skills of love. It took everything I had not to burst out laughing in his face.  I really didn’t want to hurt a fragile ego and at 15…it’s fragile. So I tell him that while I’m really flattered, I think it best that he heads to bed in the other bedroom. But he’s all sincere, and wants to know why I won’t give him a chance (what…you mean other than the fact you’re jailbait, I’m not the least bit attracted to you and I’m in Mexico and I have no idea what happens to female pedophiles in a Mexican prison?).  I explained that he’s a little young for me, and that I don’t think his Mom would appreciate anything I might do to him.  Anyway….it was one of the most interesting evenings that I’ll never forget! And my co-worker doesn’t know that story, so he can’t use that as an excuse!

I swear, I don’t know where people get their wild assed ideas from about me. What, do I give out a weird vibe? Do I roll like I’m the ultimate female player of the universe? I’m actually a pretty straight shooter when it comes to any of that outside life stuff.  And I never break rule number (what’s that number again???) well, you know…the one about seeing/doing any guy my son’s age or younger???

As my co-worker left today, he says "Don't get into any relationships in Tahoe"...REALLY??? He makes it sound like wherever I go, I pick up men and get into relationships.  I haven't been in a relationship since the ex-boyfriend last year.  A booty call or two and gobsmacked upside the head, but other than that....what relationship??? Friendships don't count. And he doesn't even know about the booty calls...I don't discuss that stuff with him.  He only knows about the gobsmacking because I was right next to the smacker when the co-worker texted me and asked what I was doing...so I sent a picture...that was rather naughty of me, I know...

Ok Peeps. I think Dizzy has given you enough to think about until tomorrow. Tomorrow is the Independence Day blog, and I’m not quite sure what you’ll think of that one.