It's the last day of 2005, and it's raining in Los Angeles. If not cats-and-dogs, it's definitely a puppies-and-kittens type of rain, and the forecast is that it will span the gap between years, ending sometime on the second day of 2006. Which means that the hallowed Rose Parade is likely to get a bit soggy for the first time in a long while. But water is supposed to be good for roses, right?
In a way, it's nice that it's raining here today, even if the vast majority of Los Angelenos are either shaking their fists at the sky in fury that their plans to hit the beach have been foiled - or, more likely, are wondering in terror where the bright yellow light they've grown so accustomed to has gone. But for me, it's kind of symbolic of the washing away of the residue of a year that was pretty rough on a lot of people. Or maybe just Mother Nature's last raspberry toward the human renters of her planet, another reminder of who's really in charge - as if we needed one after all of the hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis and Nick-and-Jessica stories that invested the Earth for the past 12-plus months. Either way, the rain kind of justifies my time-honored decision not to venture out into the drunken pathways that mark the New Year's Eve festivities. I'll be sipping my non-alcoholic sparkling cider, on my balcony, bidding 2005 a proper adieu.
Happy New Year, suckers!