I remember hearing, during my time in New Orleans, that this was a uniquely Southern American way of describing rain through sunlight (or, if you prefer, sunlight through rain). I've not yet been able to find anyone who can tell me the origins of this particular phrase, though there seems to be a phrase in a surprisingly large number of languages to describe this phenomena. Romania's is "Ploaie cu soare. Mâine-i sărbătoare” or, roughly, “Rain with sun, tomorrow is a holiday”. I shouldn’t be surprised that there is a Romanian phrase for this as well, as it seems to happen with a decent level of frequency here.
Local weather has been pretty rainy recently. Normally I don't have a problem with rain, and often rather enjoy it, but this seems to be that Pacific Northwest-type rain as opposed to the Midwestern-type rain I grew up with and grew accustomed to. It rains, lightly and intermittently, over the course of a couple of days. Ongoing rainy weather doesn't really bother me either; I prefer cool, cloudy and overcast. But the constant, misty rain is rather more irritating, as if the weather just can't be bothered to make up its mind about what it wants to do.

I like decisive weather. At least once a year in Chicago we'd get a massive storm rolling through; you could feel the tension and electricity building up in the air for hours, sometimes days, beforehand. The weather would get hot and still, and everything seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation. The sky would fill with clouds the color of anodized aluminum, giant, distant rumbles would shake the air, and the wind would pick up and start whipping through the trees. Cracks of thunder would fragment the sky and sheets of rain would start pouring down, practically out of nowhere. The temperature would drop 20°F in the space of a few minutes, and the ambient humidity would coalesce into bucket-sized drops plummeting down at 45-degree angles, hammering into the ground and ripping the leaves off the trees as they fell. Sometimes the lightning-pierced sky would turn a nascent, sickish sort of green and you knew you'd be in for a good storm, the kind of storm that leaves huge branches strewn around the neighbourhood the next morning. The house I grew up in had "Chicago style" windows--a large, stationary pane of solid glass flanked by two smaller, openable windows, and I'd pull the curtains open and spend the afternoon (this always seemed to happen around 4-5pm) watching the show.

Those types of rainstorms don't seem to exist here, at least not where I am--I'd assume that they’re a product of the flat plains that characterise the Midwestern region, just as the drippy wetness here is a result of being in a hilly, if not quite mountainous, region of Romania. So all day today the weather's been "indecisive" … sunny, then clouding over, then a few minutes of hard rain, then drizzle through the sun, then returning cloud cover, to clear and sunny, to more rain, to (today, at least) a short, unexpected bout of hail. I can't help but wish the weather would just make up its mind already; if it's going to rain, then rain hard and get it overwith. The constant dampness can get a little annoying, as can carrying an umbrella/hooded jacket just in case it turns rainy for fifteen minutes out of the day. That, and the fact that the broken sidewalks turn into mud pits, and rivers of horse dung run in the streets, so its increasingly difficult to walk anywhere without getting slimed with something.