The Deluge

Utah has the most temperamental of weather. It's like an older sister. Or a pregnant mother. Or an attractive friend who half the time acts like they are in love with you and then the other half of the time treats you like they would only go to your funeral for the funeral potatoes.

The past few weeks have been particularly disorienting. The weather's all, "Yeah, it's definitely winter...just kidding, it's more like spring...oh! Oh! I know! How about a sunny morning, followed by two hours of snowstorms, and then the rest of the day can be warm but cloudy???!!!"

On Tuesday the temperature got to sixty degrees Fahrenheit. And yesterday, the weather apparently decided that its friend the Mississippi River should fall from the sky. For seven hours. Straight.

The streets were flooding. The wheels of my car kicked up sprays of water that drenched passersby. Or would have, had there been passersby. Which there weren't. Everyone who was not an amphibian or a semi-aquatic mammal had the good sense to stay indoors.

Little Sister insisted on venturing outdoors. Not because she is an amphibian or a semi-aquatic mammal (although once Older Sister and I convinced her she was turning into a mermaid--but that's another story) but because she is a ballerina. Ballerinas must have ballet lessons. Ballet lessons must be driven to. And so on.

Thus I drove Little Sister to her ballet lessons.

There are three ways to reach Little Sister's ballet studio. The first way was blocked by a very slow, very wet train. The second way was blocked by very slow, very wet traffic.

The third way it was.

The third way involves a half-mile on the freeway.

Getting myself to go that way was kind of like taking grape cough medicine. I had to do it quickly or I would lose my courage. So I speedily pulled onto the freeway and began the half-mile.

And a treacherous half-mile it was. Everything was obscured by gray. There was water everywhere, and we just knew that one of the cars speeding by was going to lose control and slam into us. Or that we would lose control and slam into somebody or something else.

"Well," I said, "this is really scary."

Scary, but without incident. We got off the freeway unharmed.

"Hey!" Little Sister yelled as we turned towards the studio. "Turn on your lights!"

"Who, me?"

"No, that guy." She nodded towards a car as gray as the rain. I hadn't even noticed it weave around us.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Good, 'cause my lights are on. The normal ones are, at least. Not the bright ones. I don't even know what the bright ones are for.

LITTLE SISTER: Yeah, me neither. I know you're not supposed to use them with fog.

A thoughtful silence.

LITTLE SISTER: They're probably for caves.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Oh, of course.

LITTLE SISTER: Or underwater voyages.

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: Like skydiving.

LITTLE SISTER: ...

AWKWARD MORMON GIRL: ...I meant scuba diving.