Standing by statement test of will

Making statements is one thing. Living up to them while you're getting soaked is quite another.

The extremes of summer heat in eastern New Mexico have been discussed in detail here before:

• I've contended you haven't gone through a hot day until the deodorant stick melts in the car trunk, turning gym clothes into a fresh-smelling mess.
• I've also detailed a killer recipe for dashboard cookies on 95-plus days (parchment paper on the dash, bake store-bought cookie dough for three hours).

Extreme heat doesn't just lead to extreme laundry or extreme cooking. It can lead to some extreme statements, as well.

"After the last two summers," I've told people often in 2012, "I'm never complaining about rain again as long as I live." (Note: The real-life version might include language I can't share here.)

If the last few days are any indication, I'm heading for a moral dilemma.

Let me explain: There are funnier things in this world, but it's always amusing to see people constantly talk about praying for rain on Facebook, then when it does rain complain on Facebook about the plans it ruined.

As my rain statement has made abundantly clear, I have no interest in being one of those people. But since I've chosen the extreme to never complain, ever, about rain, it could put me in some precarious positions:

• I wasn't in the area for the Fourth of July rainout, or the subsequent rescheduling of fireworks. Dodged a bullet there, as that would have assuredly been a temptation to complain.
• I'm planning to see a few baseball games this summer on my free days. I hope rain doesn't push those games to days that I don't have free.
• While driving home from Albuquerque, I think a storm followed me all the way from Albuquerque to Fort Sumner. I tried to stay positive, thinking of all of that farmland that could use the moisture.

However, I've already passed one test. A relative had a wedding last weekend, and I scheduled my vacation around it. It was an outdoor wedding, with Montana beers on tap, floral-print bridesmaid dresses and the groom wearing a baseball cap with his shirt and tie.

After the greetings, the vows and the kiss, it was time to slice up some cake. It was relaxed and perfect ... and cue the rain.

Everybody ducked for cover — in the house, in the garage, under the tent-covered table that seemed so spacious just five minutes prior. Everybody, that is, except me. With just my tablecloth to protect my camera, I sat through the five-minute sprinkle. I didn't get drenched, and there was a double rainbow at the end for another photo.

As I sat in the rain, with everybody looking at me like I was crazy, I had a small epiphany. Saturday's wedding gave me a new relative, and I couldn't control that. My declarative statement essentially gave me a new friend — the rain — and I have a lot of control over how I treat that friendship.

If that's not the case, maybe I should reconsider my extremes.

Kevin Wilson is a columnist for Clovis Media Inc. He can be contacted at 763-3431, ext. 313, or by email:

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