I like rain. I love the smell of it. I love the way it cleans the air for the arrival of a new day.  I love the way dogs and kids run around in it. I love the way my flowers (the ones that are still alive despite me) perk up after a rainstorm. I love cuddling under a blanket, listening to the sounds of it on my roof, and against the windows.  I love that it allows our food to  grow and our lawns to thrive. It sustains life.

But there was that one time. I had planned an elaborate luau for my husband’s 30th, had set everything up outside. And then it rained. I hated it then.

And there was that other time when I lived in Brazil and had be outside all day working. When it rains in Brazil, it RAINS. I mean, rain like I…