Rain on my parade

It is a cold, rainy day in Los Angeles. The first proper rain of the fall season.  The kind of weather where you find your hand reaching for your warmest sweaters or tutlenecks.  "Don't forget your scarf!" my beloved told be before he headed out.  It'll be cold at night when you come home. Ohhhh yeah.

I pulled out a long sleeve shirt, full pants, and put on my black leather boots that can withstand the rain.  My purple umbrella and raincoat were both waiting for me in my car. Not the smartest thing since I pass through many unprotected entrances and carports before I come to my own car.  I keep my work bag, lunch bag, and purse close as I can to ensure the huge droplets of rain stay away from my important papers.

The dive to work is hideous.  The first rain of the season brings out the most panicked drivers. We all know that a few months of oil build up is about to mix with the rain. And its really coming down.  But I don't mind. I'm listening to my newest book on tape, Bossypants, written and narrated by Tina Fey.  And this sh*t is funny!

I run into work. Despite having my raincoat on now, and using my umbrella, the umbrella isn't really big enough to carry my monstrosity of an ensemble (again, Lunch bag, work bag and purse... good thing it wasn't a yoga day).

I fix myself a cup of tea (having downed already 2 cups of coffee this morning) and enjoy the sullen gloomy weather, all bundled up at my desk, work work working.

My tummy grumbles, and even though I packed a lunch (leftover brown rice pasta and new england clam sauce & steamed Brussel sprouts) the weather is just screaming for Turkey Chili from our stage cafeteria.

I suit up and walk across the studio lot ducking under any breezeway and awning that I can fine.  The rain is taking on a diagonal directions so my pants are getting wet. My thick rubber heals are protecting my feet from puddles, but I'm still careful where I stand.  Racing into the building and giving the umbrella a few shakes out of respect for the venue, I run to the counter...
 

            ... they are out of turkey chili

They offer up chicken noodle... but I didn't feel like picking out white flour noodles out of my soup.

They offered up Tomato Bisque, but confirmed with the lady that they do indeed use white sugar. I turn around, defeated. My head hanging low. I make my way back outside, shooting up my umbrella.  I am sad. I almost want to cry (I know, it sounds retarded). The pounding rain on my umbrella really feels fitting of my gloomy disposition.

"you still have yummy clam sauce leftovers!" my inner self reminds petulant Petunia.  And my inner self it right.  I still do.  Turkey chili will have to wait for another day.