It used to be, that unless you were dating a meteorologist, talking about the weather was a sure indication that the relationship was already headed nowhere and boring. Not anymore, the weather now-a-days is big news and making itself heard. Fly-away hair strand by fly-away hair strand the weather is steadily creeping in making a name for itself as in – loud and obnoxious, or troubled and in serious need of universal Prozac to calm the #*%$ down.
Talking about it over dinner in an intimate setting is the least we can do and now forcibly interesting conversation. Gathering the recently strewn and busted up dinner table and turning it into firewood after a mild to moderate wind storm would be another romantic idea. Or if you find you’re needing to relight the baked Alaska because a pesky mini tornado has just whizzed by unannounced – you know by now the weather is demanding attention—needy. You probably want to call home to see if the babysitter hasn’t flown off to some exotic destination – like your back yard along with Sadie the cow and part of your microwave oven— previously wall-attached.
My, how the weather’s changed. I say we notice it. Then gear up for it, make room for it, clear the room for it, strap ourselves down for it, brace ourselves for it, maybe not buy the house by shore this year– for it. Of course, if the guy you’re dating during the sand storm, whilst-living- in-New York-and-nowhere-near-sand, is wealthy and already has the house by the shore—then I’d dress for it.
Love is the air—watch, there it goes right next to the Jones’ duplex.