I believe for every drop of rain that falls . . .

Well, it is still raining. And the bed is still wet. I must confess I no longer am sure a flower will grow. The weather is just too shitty. 

I really do not like this rendition of the song, we sang it in girls glee, yes Glee, and I feel we did it better. But it did remind me of all the Elvis stuff in my life. 

My brother loved Elvis. He was very handsome himself, he rather resembled Elvis at his best and Richard Gere at his hottest. Unfortunately he knew it and kinda acted the ass. But he loved Elvis. I also worked with a guy that loved Elvis. He was the ultimate Elvis fan and met this "Elvis insider guy" for an Elvis gathering. He picked him up from the airport and took him home to his barn that was all Elvis all the time, they were waiting to go to the conference, and this guy let him try on his Elvis ring. It was made exactly like the one Elvis wore that he took the stone out of to make Ginger a ring. Yellow Diamond. Big yellow diamond. 

More . . .

Standing in front of the Elvis mansion with my mom waiting for Elvis to come home from a trip and his uncle flirting with my mom. He gave her a branch from a tree in the yard and she tried to grow it. My dad got the guard to let us drive around the driveway once, I think because we had a Cadillac back in the day when just not every one had one. And it was blue. Elvis was not home that time but I think Priscilla was sitting in the yard. I remember my parents looking a home once that would have overlooked his front yard. I remember visiting there and marveling at the hype and the tackiness, it is so over the top you just have to go and see it. Just remember to go to the Peabody Hotel for drinks and the ducks. 

So a drop of rain dribbled onto to the sail of the  windmill of my mind. And I prefer Dusty Springfield to Barbra.