SNOWPOCOLYPSE 2011!

It happens every time...

Some meteorologist sees snow a'comin' and the word hurtles through all channels. "SNOW IN THE FORECAST! How will it affect your commute?"

And we all know better. That snow is going to gently waft over the bunny slope on Mt. Rainier and then it'll rain in the lowlands after the run on generators and toilet paper at the local Walmart.

Except, of course, when it actually does snow. And in these parts, as little as 3 inches of snow can shut down the city. Last time it snowed (in November), I was caught about 5 miles from home and it took me 3 hours to return to the domicile...and that after abandoning my car half a mile from home because I couldn't get up the second to the last hill.

So when it was reported this morning that up to 3 inches was expected in the late afternoon and that it was advised that people leave work early if at all possible (so's to prevent the cluster that was the evening commute on aforementioned November evening), all I could think was how buggered I would be if it really did snow because The Child had rehearsal and needed picking up at 5 pm.

My choices were these:

If the snow came as predicted, risk life & limb to fetch her and spend 6 hours (or more) stuck in traffic with a sullen teenager

-or-

Tell her to come home after school, on the school bus, and miss rehearsal thereby assuring an evening at home with a sullen teenager.

I chose the latter.

It started snowing about an hour ago. And the anticipation of a potential snow day has erased, at least for now, all her anger at my over-caution preventing her from pursuing her chosen career.

How Come My Pictures are So Tiny?

I can't speak for where you live but believe me when I say that September is absolutely THE most glorious month in Seattle. The evenings are cool, sometimes cool enough that you get a little misty fog in the morning but the days are almost all bright and crisp and sunny. Perfect.

It was perfect last week when we had our party for the Fisher House.

See? (That's me being paparrazi).

And it was beautiful on Sunday when Kiki was baptized. Here's a little tiny photo album:

Most babies fuss (or even scream bloody murder) when they are baptized. Not Kiki. She plopped herself down in the font and looked around like, "Alrighty then, let's do this!"


I love that the photographer caught this moment...just there Father is telling Papa "She's right at home". Significant use of language, wouldn't you say?

This is godmom waiting on the altar with the light:
Here's all the gang on the steps of the Cathedral after Mass:
Here's Kiki with The Child, enjoying one of her cupcakes:

And here she is making many crumbs for The Dog to eat later:
What's that? You wanted to see the official portrait? Oh. OK.

Dancing in the Street

It's raining.

It's All True

Yesterday the official recorded temperature was 102°, the highest for that date in Seattle history.

I admit, that's a little hot.

Traditionally, homes in the Northwest don't have AC. It just isn't historically necessary. A few years ago The Spouse bought a window unit for our family room. I berated him soundly. What was he thinking, spending hundreds of dollars on something that would be used maybe MAYBE one or two days out of the year? Amortizing out the cost, however, proves it to be a wise decision. Not to mention that right now you can't lay your hands on any cooling unit in any home store in the area. Seriously. MAB just bought a unit that had come off the truck 15 minutes before and by the time they checked out the supply was depleted again.

And we have fans for the other rooms, which makes sleep possible, even when there is no air coming through the open windows.

The Dog has a big bowl of water. I feel bad leaving him shut up in the house each day until The Child returns from summer school. But he's coping in his own doggie way.

Also, I have increased my sandal wardrobe and yesterday bought some more flowy "Jai Ho" skirts to wear to work.

In the evenings we dine al fresco and then sit in the back garden until it is dark. Last night we ran the sprinkler and would occasionally douse ourselves. Who doesn't love a douse in a sprinkler?


Plus, heat greatly diminishes my appetite so I'm pretty sure that by the time this is all over I will have lost a few unnecessary pounds. That's not a bad thing.

The temps are going to start coming down. It's only supposed to get to 101° today. See how we adapt?

And adaptation is the bottom line. I was telling someone the other day that Seattleites need to learn how to drive in snow and function when it's hot. People in the Northwest are, I believe, complete and total weather wimps. We whine if it's too cold, we whine if it's too hot. And trust me, traditionally "too hot" is anything over 75°. And we make far, far too big a deal of the weather, even on an official basis. (Our weathermen and women are among the most hysterical (as in crazy raving over-reaction) around. "Snow in the forecast!!!!!! How will it affect your commute????????? Temperatures in the 100s!!!!!!!!!!! Arrrrggghhhh!!! We're all gonna die!!!!!!!!!!!!!!).

The way I see it our weather patterns very well may be changing and the best plan in my view is to accept the new normal and shut the H up. I'm quite sure that your personal body temperature increases several degrees with every complaint about the heat you make. And complaining distracts you from the blessings. Last night I was having (iced) cocktails with The Neighbor and a gorgeous cool breeze started to blow, rustling the leaves of her fruit trees in the most musical way and cooling our skin. I stopped and just paid attention to that breeze. It felt so very, very good. Without the heat I would have completely taken that breeze for granted and that would have been sad.

Now if you'll please excuse me, I'm going to go ice my feet.

Strategy for Today

Sit out in the cool of the morning being thankful - check
Sleeveless blouse & capris - check
Sunscreen that smells like bug spray - check
Ice & water in cute, eco-friendly metal water bottles - check
Hamburgers thawing in fridge for dinner - check
Extra water for the animals - check
Windows closed (unfortunate but necessary) - check
Fans off - check
Flip flops & toe ring - check (Note to self: get a pedi)
Air kisses to family because it is too hot to touch - check

Be cool, kids. Be cool.

Shade is Your Friend

It's very hot and dry in Seattle. We've had less than an inch of precipitation in the month of July. I don't think it rained much in June, either. Anyway, the temps are supposed to be in the 90s all week and the latest forecast suggests that it won't cool down (into the 70s) until next week.

Here's the thing. We had a dreadful winter. It was long and cold and wet and it snowed for 5 months. (It didn't snow for 5 months straight but we had snow at least one day every month for 5 months...which is way unusual. And of course, we're not forgetting that there was heavy snow in December, resulting in many event cancellations and a white Christmas). All people did for 5 months was complain about how miserable the weather was. And now they are complaining about the heat.

I kinda want to slap 'em.

If it was a typical Seattle summer right now, everyone would be all, "Damn, when are we going to get a break?" and "Just one day without rain, is that too much to ask?" and "I swear, I don't remember the last time I had a tomato ripen," and "Good thing I didn't put away the woolens this year".

Now I admit, it's certainly hot. On Saturday morning The Child and I were working in the front garden and it got so hot that we turned on the sprinkler and soaked ourselves as we worked. It was either that or heat stroke. But it was fun and it felt great and we got our project done. And then we pretty much laid around the rest of the day. (Laying around is a good strategy in the heat...works for The Dog and The Cat).

Come on, people! It's summer. It's supposed to be hot. How do you think iced tea got invented? Embrace it. Run in a sprinkler. Soak your feet in ice water. Drink a beer. Lie in the shade. Cook dinner outside. Seek out air conditioned restaurants and movie theaters. Hit the beach. Sleep on top of the blankies. Buy a fan. But for the love of God, stop complaining about sun in summer! It's going to be over all too soon and trust me, you're going to miss it when it's gone. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find something sleeveless to wear to work.

Something I Was Wondering Recently

All y'all are awesome. Thanks to you I have plenty of essay topics collected for future blog fodder. I thank you. Sincerely.

But meanwhile, here's something I don't get...("Calculus?" he asked). That too...but really what I don't get is this:

Weather men and women (who prefer to be called 'meteorologists*' but I simply refuse to play) pretty much guess at the weather. Sure, they've got their Dopplar radar and cloud cams and whatever else they use but even after basing their predictions on all their techy toys, they know, as well as we do, that their "50% chance of rain" (besides being the biggest hedge ever. Hello? Even odds? Cue the two old farmer dudes rocking on the front porch: 'Yep, could rain today'....'Uh, yep, or not')is nothing more than an educated guess. Winds change direction, air warms or cools, somewhere a butterfly flaps its wing and the whole weather story changes.

So how is it that when they issue a severe storm warning for high winds from 12-4 am damned if the wind doesn't start blowing right at midnight? Every time?


*I used to think (up until 5 minutes ago)that weather people were silly to have a fancy pants name that had nothing to do with weather and everything to do with meteors. Always seemed kinda ingenuous to me. But then I looked up the Latin root: meμετέωρος, metéōros, which means "high in the sky" and I think that is just adorable so maybe I'm over that little bit of it.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

It is, as The Spouse describes it, "punch you in the face cold". We got about 2 inches of snow on Sunday. The roads are clear...there's just a little ice around here (it's worse in other places)...but more snow is predicted.

I hope it doesn't snow. If it does it will be impossible to go to Mr. Stewart's funeral and I'd like to be there for Martha. Not to mention, there's a school concert on Wednesday and I still have some Christmas shopping to do. Like, a lot, actually.

But the snow is so pretty, the sky so clear, the moon so bright. You gotta like that. Especially when the house is so toasty warm and the coffee good and hot.

Oh, What a Beautiful Morning

We had an exceptional weekend here in the great city of Seattle, with temperatures up into the 80s. Gor. Geous. Despite the vagaries of a dismal, wet and over-long winter, the tulips bloomed and now, as they fade, everything else is in bud. The May air is soft. Even on the chill, overcast days of last week it portended the warmth that was coming and on the mottled wings of that warmth, fragrance lingers. It stops me. I can be engaged in the most mundane of tasks - taking my wastebasket to the recycling, going to the garage to get chicken breasts from the freezer - and the air commands me to stop. There is a general sweetness of miscellaneous bud and blossom, fruit trees, new grass, the last hyacinth and the first rose but the top note, unmistakably, is lilac.

Nearly everyone in this neighborhood has lilac bushes. Sometimes I imagine that there used to be one grand house here, owned by a lilac fanatic who planted swaths and swaths of them. I imagine how gorgeous May must have been in that house- windows opened to allow the spring air to clear away the last vestiges of winter from the corners. Those homeowners would have been very calm and happy people, smelling lilac all day. It is a healing fragrance.

I imagine, sometimes, that the house had to be taken down...unfortunate investments, a heir who was neglectful of the family legacy...and the land being sold off in tiny parcels to post-war developers who raised up all the little ranch houses and cottages that line the streets now. But this would have been the '50s after all; these plain little houses were built with care and the heart of the craftsman still informed both design and construction. I fancy those developers saw the lilacs and held back modernity just enough to plot the footprint of each house to accommodate the old lilac bushes, striving to keep at least one for each property.

That's not what happened. And in fact, the lilac on our land is one we planted ourselves. But from the back garden I can see lines of lilacs to the north and south and can't help but think they were here long before our houses were built.

After our splendid weekend of heat, the lilacs too are fading for the season. Summer flowers are coming on. The irises, which might otherwise have waited until June, have begun to pop open and the roses are loaded with buds. The blossoms of the apple stick are falling like snow and leaving behind tiny green apple babies. The bees did their work; there will be lots of applesauce cake this year.

I must away to gather rosebuds while I may and hang washing on the line.

Monday Morning Notebook

First of all, thanks to all of you who played the "what sort o' elitist are you" game over the weekend. We're mostly a pack of book/language snobs. Like we didn't already know that. Except for Buck, who is an elite elitist. But we knew that, too.

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Second of all, The Child's volleyball team was eliminated from the play-offs yesterday. After a spectacular performance in the first game, they ended up being, simply, out-classed by their opponents. They tried and they made 'em work for that last point, but in the end, it was the end.

Then I realized something. And I can tell you this because The Child doesn't read my blog and I would never, ever say this to her out loud. At least not at this point. But as sad as it was to see the season end, our girls didn't deserve to be champions. And I'll tell you why. Because they are a lousy team. Oh, sure, they've got skillz. They know the game. But they don't know how to play as a team. There are Hot Dogs and there is everyone else and the Hot Dogs saw to it that that never changed. Good Coach did what she could to mitigate the mindset but she had 3 mere months to undo the damage brought on by 3 years of Bad Coach. Under him, the Hot Dogs got arrogant, sloppy and even more hot doggie while the rest of them languished, not being allowed to develop to their full potential and, even when they all blossomed under Good Coach, were not trusted by the Hot Dogs to do their job.

Watching the team that eliminated them yesterday I thought there was complete justice in their victory. They too had skillz but where they excelled was in team work. Everyone was important, everyone was trusted, everyone did their job. They talked to each other, encouraged each other and generally worked together as a formidable unit. That's how you win games.

Then I realized that's why I hate the Yankees. Yeah, they win games, too, but I hate them because they are all about star power. It's about A-Rod and Jeter and all the rest of those clowns. Yankee baseball, to me, seems more about personal best than teamwork. Contrast them, if you will, with the 2001 Mariners. Did you know that in the 2000-01 season, in which they won 116 games, the cumulative batting average was only .288? The great Edgar Martinez himself batted .306 (4th time in his career he went up over .300). I'm just saying. That season was all about teamwork. Sure, individuals put up some great numbers, but it was the sweet clicking on the field that set the record. It didn't matter who a ball went to, he fielded it and sent it to whoever else he needed to to get the opposing player out. There was no showing off. Individually AND collectively, each guy did his best. And it was a joy to watch.

Anyspike, that's that and I for one will be glad to have our weekends back. Theoretically, anyway.

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In other gripping news, I posted something on my food blog. Those of you yearning for bread and butter pudding will be pleased. I've really let that beautiful little site languish so I've committed to posting there, at a minimum, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. In case you care.

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It's Passover and man, are we having the weather to prove it. We had hail storms all weekend (at least it wasn't burning). I keep waiting for the locusts and am thinking of slopping some lamb blood over the door posts and lintels just to be on the safe side. It's been insane. We went from a 78° day last Saturday to near freezing temperatures and hail stones this weekend. Someone in God's weather department didn't get the memo that it's spring.

Sheesh.

What Foul Utterance from The Heavens Is This?

So, Dana, no fooling...about an hour after you posted your comment yesterday about snow in the spring being like a "soft, fluffy curse word" it started to hail here. Hail as in Biblical-proportions-only-it-wasn't-burning. Then there was thunder. Then The Mariners won their season opener.

I'd try to figure out what it all meant but there are 4 guys on horseback out front asking for directions.

More Miscellaneous Sneezes

This is one of those situations where I must clarify something for all my readers who do not actually live in the Northwest: the entire state is NOT under water. Seattle is NOT underwater. The places where 3 branches of my family tree live ARE under water. Or at least very, very sloshy and without power. It's insane. The Neighbor just called to say that she was in Spokane, on a layover for her flight to Portland. Because, yeah, you can't drive the 3.5 hours from Seattle to Portland right now because part of I-5 is UNDERWATER. (photo blatantly stolen from courtesy of Associated Press) I've seen the pictures and I still can't comprehend it. But remember: there's no such thing as global warming.

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Bless your heart, I know what you're thinking: "But Lorraine! If The Neighbor is going to be in Portland tonight, how will you watch "Project Runway" with her??? This is terrible!" It's alright. Relax. She's going to call me and we're going to watch it together over the phone. That's a relief.

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Out of the Mouths of Babes I gave The Child a hypothetical situation today. Something about a girl saying lots of bad things about another girl and wanting to start a fight with her because she thought Girl 2 had plans to mess up Girl 1's life. But then information came out that Girl 2 had no such plans but Girl 1 kept talking about how she was going to stop Girl 2 anyway. "What would you think about someone like that?" "I'd think she really must want attention," she said. Ha. See? GWB is a nut job. He really must be stopped.

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On a completely unrelated note: I absolutely love my mortgage banker. Love her. Love her. Love her. I'm going to name my firstborn after her. Well, ok, can't do that. But still. She is a rock star.

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Today is the first day of Hanukkah. You know what that means:

Rainy Days and Mondays

It's raining. A lot.

It was so dark on the ride into school that I almost thought I had the time wrong. The streets are running with water; some are already closed to traffic. Flood warnings are in effect. I'm looking for those blueprints for the ark.

Of course, being from the Northwest, rain in and of itself isn't an issue. Ho hum. But "they" are predicting a wind storm later today. Tons of rain followed by wind? Hi, that was the recipe for the Big Blow of '06. I'm having flashbacks. My stomach hurts.

Just 'Cause I'm Completely Self-Indulgent

A blustery morning turned into a rather windy afternoon.

We lost power at about 3 o'clock.

I followed all the necessary steps, learned after the Big Blow:

Swear.
Turn off computer.
Get out flashlights and candles.
Keep refrigerator closed.
Call Neighbor so she makes sure to come right home after work so we can start drinking.
Call Hat.
Call JP.
Instruct aforementioned bloggers to please post something on my behalf tomorrow if I haven't posted by 9am. (Because between the 2 of them I think everyone on my blogroll is covered).
Imagine self in cold and dark for days.
Put perky face on situation for Child.
Swear.

The power came back on at about 6:30. The house is warm, the fridge is humming, nothing in the fridge/freezer went bad and I'll be able to watch "The Office" tonight.

Life is good.

Batten Down the Hatches

Predictions abound for a big wind storm today. Usually, I ignore the weather people. Especially weather people on the local news (which also sucks) because they have a tendency to be, oh, what's the word? Hysterical. "Snow in the forecast! How will it affect your commute!?!" (Translation: there will be a normal snowfall of 1 inch. In the mountains. It might rain where we are. Maybe. But hey, this is Seattle. Predicting rain is like drinking coffee. We do it all the time. What's sexy about that?)

But after the Big Blow, I gotta admit, this makes me nervous.

There is good ground coffee in the freezer. I know where the can opener is. The corkscrew is still manually operated.

I'm hoping that by saying this out loud it'll all, uh, blow over. 'Cause I'm practical like that.

Partly Something

I'm not a meteorologist. I guess that's why I can't understand a weather report that says, "Partly cloudy with a chance of showers this morning, turning to partly sunny and a chance of showers this afternoon".

The Neighbor and I planned my 50th birthday party last night. It will be...wait for it...a French bistro theme. You did not see that coming, did you? It will be superfantastic. You're all invited. We also worked on a Rat Pack themed party for The Spouse the following month. We did that for his 40th and it was really fun. I suppose I should have run that by him before I told you but hopefully he won't mind. You're all invited to that one, too.

The Child thinks 50 is old. Funny. Because this morning I heard a birthday announcement for some musician who played with the likes of Bob Dylan. He was 66 and I thought, "Wow. That's young". Guess it's more of that partly cloudy/partly sunny thing.

I've never had a crisis around what my friend Pat calls "the speed limit" birthdays. You know, the ones that could be posted on a street sign. I was thrilled about turning 30 because it meant that no one could ever again get away with telling me I wasn't old enough to do/say whatever. I maybe hadn't yet experienced all life has to offer but hey, I was 30. That's a grown-up.

40 didn't freak me out at all. I've noticed that the people who are bothered the most by an age like that aren't really satisfied with where they are in life. By the time you're 40 you expect to have "done something" with your life. I was happy in my marriage, I had a kid, a house, pursuits that interested me. I'd been to England and France. And New York - twice. There was nothing to complain about.

50 feels the same way, only more so. Going into 50 I'll be able to say that I've been published. I'll have a job I like (still don't know what that is but I'll have one). Maybe by the time I turn 50 I'll have a pygmy goat and have learned to make chevre (that's on my list of life time goals). I still feel as young as I ever did, just more confident. Plus, when I look at women like Oprah, Helen Mirren, Susan Sarandon, or Diane Keaton I think, "Oh, yeah. Older looks good".

Hence, my 50th celebration will be just that - a celebration. Anyone showing up with black balloons or "over the hill" cards will be summarily dismissed from the festivities. I hate those people.

So anyway, back to the party. We'll have apertif and dinner over at The Neighbor's. She's going to hire an accordion player. Then we'll go to our house for cake and karaoke. I realize the later isn't particularly French but I like doing karaoke and it's my birthday. Then at midnight, when I officially turn 50, we'll drink champagne. Won't that be fun?

When Life Gives You Snow