We had quite a downpour yesterday evening. Caught me by surprise while I was preparing the grill for Mark so that he could do some kabobs. I built a little mound of charcoal briquettes, soaked them in lighter fluid, and lit that sucker. I had some nice flames licking at the sky. While I was dreaming about those chicken kabobs and how good they were going to taste, there was a lightning strike. It was close, scared the crap out of the dogs and me. I looked down the gangway towards the west. Sure enough, it was black as night. Within minutes my lovely fire was doused. We still had our chicken kabobs, just not grilled outdoors.
After dinner we were sitting in the living room when Mark looked out the window and saw a kid riding his scooter through the giant puddle in the street.
"Ewww.. there's a kid playing in that filthy storm water, and his grandmother is out there with him. What's wrong with her? Why would she let that kid do that?"
I looked out the window. Yes, a kid was playing in the puddle, and yes Grandma was standing there with her umbrella watching him. They were laughing. That's because it is fun to play in dirty, filthy storm water. I know because we used to do it when we were kids. In fact, because sewage was simply flushed out into the storm drains when I was a kid, there was many a time we'd be playing as turds floated by. The trick was to always wear your boots, and never let the water get in your mouth. Mark squealed in horror when I told him that. So while Mark looked out the window and saw an irresponsible grandmother, I saw a grandmother having a good time with her grandson. Good clean fun.