I feel the first post should explain the pseudo-cryptic title before we delve into anything else.
I mow my grandparents' lawn whenever necessary... usually weekly. Whenever my grandfather calls, really. Punk, as I call him, is one of my favorite people in existence and I am Punkette; we have one of Those relationships -- y'know, one where affectionate heckling takes the foreground. We're a dream team and it's great. Spending time with him is one of the biggest reasons I'm still in Rockford.
As you've probably deduced, I got a call one Saturday this past summer asking if I'd like to make $10... which is how he asks. Of course the answer was 'yes.'
It wasn't supposed to rain. Not that I watched the weather that day... I have no trust in forecasts. But Punk did. He was also a weatherman during his days in the USAF. He probably watched the weather, though, too.
The sky was overcast when I got to his house and he asked me if I still wanted to mow because it looked like rain. I decided that I did. During the five minutes it took to get the lawn mower out and ready, it had started drizzling.
I decided to mow anyway.
Punk warned against it-- the rain would probably get heavier and I'd have to stop.
I mowed on.
The rain did get heavier... but only for a little bit. As I mowed, the rain lightened... lightened... lightened... and stopped. And I finished the job in the sun.
As I was mowing, I drew a parallel and conclusion:
You've gotta mow through the rain if you want to get on with your day. Despite what your family tells you, despite what the professionals and authorities tell you... you're going to encounter rain. Just ask yourself:
Do I want to attempt?
Remember... you can stop if it rains too hard and mowing becomes dangerous or too much to handle. But eventually... the sun will appear again. And at least you know you pushed the envelope... and tried.
Until next time,