While waiting for the storm, or round 2 (3?) of these seemingly huge rains, John and I stretched our legs today by walking to the beach to look at the size of the waves. Yes, they were bigger than normal but not BIG.
What we did notice though was that despite the air feeling cool (hallelujah), the air was so water saturated that our skin’s pores weren’t exactly sweating but were rather becoming one with the air.
Yes, as we watched the waves while waiting for the rain and we rejoiced in the overcast coolness, our poor pores were pouring.
Now, try to explain that line to a new English-language speaker!
Poor
Pores
Pouring
Spelled three different ways and with three different meanings but all with one similar sound.
Meanwhile, John has spent the past three days digging a ditch above our house hoping to direct the coming runoff down the neighborhood stairs instead of over the hill and into our house.
Because, despite my posting last week that our last two years’ worth of work (to prevent our house from continually flooding in heavy rains) had been successful… well, alas, they were NOT. That very night, in the exact same corner of our laundry room, a river poured in.
May our poor pores be the only thing pouring this coming week inside my house and yours.
