Love, Jimmie

Before I propose to you, let’s get the pleasantries out of the way.  Happy Belated Fourth of July!  I hope you all had safe and fun holiday weekends.  I went on a road trip and have a post about my weekend in the lineup.  Since I’m having trouble getting it to come together you get this one today. 

I’ve noticed that a lot of you out there have a shortage of rain.  Here in Nashville we often have more than we know what to do with, especially in the parts of town that I frequent.  (See:  Nashville Flooding 2010).  I’ve been knocking this conundrum around in my head for some time now partly because every time I post (or whine) something about rain either here or on Facebook I get a reply from someone saying SEND. IT. HERE.  And I always respond with something unhelpful along the lines of “What I wouldn’t give . . . .”  But since I’m a genius, albeit a slow one, I’ve come up with the perfect solution.  This here is what I propose:   

I want you, the rain-needer, to invite me, the rain-bringer, to your city.  I can almost guarantee that this will work.  There are several scenarios in which we can do this.   

Scenario One:

1. You determine that you need rain.
2. We book my tickets to fly to where you live.  (I prefer interesting places if it’s all the same to you.  I mean, I’ve been to Hohenwald.  I don’t really want to go back.)
3. I arrive, rest a bit, see the city, take in some sights, eat some good food and do some shopping (because it can’t be all work, you see).
4. On the morning of the chosen monsoon day, I prepare for a half marathon-training long run.  I will put my hair up in pigtails, lace up my running shoes and head out the door.  Just so that God gets on the same page as us, I will holler down the driveway, “I’m heading out for five miles today!”  And then I will go for the run.  Guaranteed rain – The end. 
5. Bonus rain points if we can time it just so I am at the furthest point away from the turning-around-to-go-home marker when the rain begins and I have to finish at least 2.5 miles running in it.

Scenario Two:

1. You determine that you need rain. 
2. We book my tickets to fly to where you live.  (I prefer interesting places if it’s all the same to you.  I mean, I’ve been to Hohenwald.  I don’t really want to go back.)
3. I begin preparations to see the city, take in some sights, eat some good food and do some shopping (because it can’t be all work, you see). 
4. Preparations will include applying expensive treatments to my hair, using the curling iron that will scorch me raw in a split second if I accidentally hover it near my skin (ask me how I know this and why it looks like I sometimes have hickies on my neck) and then shellacking my perfect coif into an unmovable helmet with the toughest hairspray on the market.  Just so that God gets on the same page as us, I will holler out your front door, “My hair looks marvelous.  I’m so happy about that!”  And then I will leave in a taxi.  With no umbrella.  Guaranteed rain – the end. 
5. Bonus rain points if we can manage to make the man of my dreams appear at exactly the moment that my hair takes on the crunchy papier mache quality and plasters itself fetchingly to my skull.   

Scenario Three:

1. You determine that you need rain.
2. I go on a road trip to your city.  The crucial bit here is that it needs to be a trip in which I have to stay in a hotel room at least one night.  (Ha! Ha!  Hohenwald is too close for an overnight stay!)
3. Along the way, I will see the cities, take in some sights, eat some good food and do some shopping (because it can’t be all work, you see).
4. Timing and intent are critical for the next part.  You must book a room for me that is entirely inappropriate for the journey meaning you book a single bed for two females who are not dating nor are they related. It must be the last room in the entire hotel.  And there must be no roll-away beds available.  Once you discover your mistake, you must then have the clerk send me to the wrong hotel for the second attempt to get the appropriate sort of room.  Make sure that the second hotel only has a single bed with no roll-aways available for two females who are not dating nor are related.  Only then can you have that clerk send me to the correct hotel with the correct sort of room which includes two beds for two females who are not dating nor are related.  During all of this process I will make sure that God gets on the same page as us by hollering out the car window, “I’m so tired!  I cannot wait to sleep in a bed all my own tonight and not have to share.”  Guaranteed rain through every step of the outside process – the end.
5. Bonus points if we can manage to have me scurrying from the car to the hotel THREE TIMES in the rain clutching all of my overnight possessions in my grubby little paws with no plastic or anything to cover them.  

I am certain that any and all of these situations will work to clear up your crusty grass issues.  They work for me EVERY TIME.  Call me.  We can work out some payment arrangements.  I look forward to hearing from you.