monsoon munchies

As we begin our short drive into the city, the sun is shining. We are headed to our favorite restaurant: a picnic by a fountain. The phone said 30% chance of rain, but we know that also means 70% chance it won't rain.  But storm clouds seem to be gathering in the distance. Another check of the phone--ah yes, a storm appears to be passing north of our destination.

We are bringing along friends who haven't tried our beloved restaurant yet. As city workers are leaving the city for home, we easily find a parking spot by the fountain. We look at the array of tables to choose from near the fountain, and our friends suggest one to the side under a very large umbrella.

We set the table with placemats, cloth napkins, plates, cutlery, wine glasses and a candle enclosed in a lantern kind of thing to avoid the wind blowing it out. Menu: just grilled-at-home chicken breasts, rice/orzo, salad and chocolate for dessert. Everything looks lovely.

But you can guess the rest of my story. A wind stirs up and gets pretty strong. Then the rain starts. Before long it's a driving, torrential rain. Monsoon like. The rain pounds us sideways. One (plastic) wine glass spills over, marinating the Gardener's chicken a second time. We laugh and eat faster. The guys hold umbrellas sideways for a little extra shelter, while eating the best they can. We help by cutting up their chicken like they were little kids. We laugh and laugh some more. Everything is getting wet. Then the rain stops. Ah, that's better. But in a minute it starts up again with new gusto. That happens again and again with the new addition of lightening and thunder. We go on with our picnic, now enjoying chocolate and conversation between bursts of thunder. (The men convince us that the skyscrapers will attract the lightening sooner than our umbrellas.)

Eventually we call it an evening and pack up the soaking wet picnic baskets and head for the car pleased that we endured. Of the many times we have picnicked by our favorite fountain, it has never rained. We certainly made a memory. And I was so pleased that my little candle burned on, unaffected by the raging wind and rain.