Run in the Rain

I'm getting ready for a little ol' 5k this weekend. I got my Body Mechanic tune-up and I'm looking forward to possible rain because I envision lots of people running through the streets with their hands over their hair like little pink carports. But not me, sister, I'm tough! I just have to make sure I'm wearing my waterproof mascara.

I assume there will be some cream puffs with umbrellas too. I hate umbrellas for a couple of reasons:

First, and I know this is horrid of me, but I would never have agreed to marry Kent if he even owned an umbrella, much less carried an umbrella. Might as well have shapely curved eyebrows and carry a man purse with a dangly keyring attached.

I'm now thinking about my metro-man friends who do carry an umbrella, have shaped eyebrows, and might have something in their closet they call their attache' or travel bag (but really it is a purse). I feel bad now for making disparaging remarks in the previous paragraph.

The second reason I hate umbrellas is that I'm tall. It's always short people that have the umbrellas. In a crowd of people on the street, they twirl those pokey spikes around like buzz saws cutting through hair, shopping bags, and eyeballs. They have no concept of life above the umbrella. It's like they have their own little rain forest world of 5'4" and under. Everything above the forest canopy is theoretical and invisible. Someday I'm going carry around a cigar and burn drip holes in the tops of umbrellas.

Still, I don't know what to wear to the 5k. I wish had a Bead-Dazzler.