It was raining so hard the other day that after I got the pooch snapped into his raincoat, he walked outside into the rain, was instantly drenched to the bone, so he turned around and headed back to the door. Yes, that’s right, he didn’t want to go out. That’s almost as bad as if he had refused food. That’s how hard it’s raining.

We are such creatures of habit. Want to see an Old Married Couple? Come over to my house tonight and watch a pair in action.

In my younger days, Friday night was unpredictable. You knew you were going to do something, you just didn’t know what. See a movie, shoot some pool, go dancing, shopping, hang with old friends – anything and everything all rolled into one. After suffering through the week, Friday night was meant to blow off steam and live a little. Saturday you recovered and Sunday was the catch up day. But Friday, Friday was for fun.

And then, somewhere along the line, my life turned into a twisted Cheers episode. Instead of a bar, insert a pizza joint. Instead of Sam Malone, insert a high school kid behind the counter. Instead of Norm or Cliff, insert Kevin. Lets watch a scene play out, shall we?

SCENE ONE

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Wife: “Hello?”

Husband: “Hey, it’s me. It’s Friday and I’m done with work and heading to Pappy Murphy’s. What sort of pizza do you feel like this week?”

Wife: “Oh, I don’t care. Just not Hawaiian – we had that last week.”

Husband: “OK, I’ll be home in 30 minutes. Go warm up that oven.”

Wife: “OK.”

SCENE TWO

Teenage Manager: “Family sized Italian, that’ll be $13.99.”

Husband: “So, how did you know what pizza was mine?”

Boy Manager: “Well, red civic and it’s Friday. You’re Kevin right?”

Husband, embarrassed, :”Uh, yeah, I guess I’m a regular, huh.”

Boy Manager: “Pretty much.”

Husband gets change and returns to car. Fade to black with Cheers theme song, Where Everybody Knows Your Name, playing in the background.

And that my friends is our typical Friday night. Pizza. From the same place, every Friday. Sometimes, if we’re feeling really social we might rent a movie but that is the sum total of our exciting Friday nights. I’m telling you, Old Married Couple.

I appear to have spoken too soon. No sooner had I hit “publish” for my last entry when the storm clouds rolled in clothing Portland in its usual rain.

Funny thing is, I love it! I guess I really have been converted to an Oregonian because now that the sky is grey and overcast, I feel like all is right in the world.

I’m just a sucker for rainy days. Without the distraction of sunshine, I can really buckle down and putter. And let me tell you, I am the all time undisputed queen of puttering. Right now my passion is Christmas cards. I have completed my list of naughty vs nice and have determined that I need a whooping 50 handmade treasures to cover this years list of lucky recipients. As of today, I’ve gotten 34 done. So I settled down with some classical music – I can’t concentrate if music has word ‘cause I end up singing along – a pot of tea and my craft goodies spread all about and went to work.

Poor Kevin. We haven’t eaten dinner together since Saturday because right now, there’s barely enough room for one person at our kitchen table. Everything else is covered in glitter, stickers and inkpads. I’ve gotten Kevin interested in making cards which, according to Josh, is a “gateway craft.” It starts simply enough but before you know it, you’re lying to your friends and staying up until the early morning hours bidding on the latest Hero Arts stamp set on ebay. Josh refuses to be tempted and so far will only agree to wash and dry stamps. He’s proving much more difficult to corrupt than Kevin.

I do, however, need to pull out Artie’s raincoat. I’ll try and remember to post a picture of him wearing it for your enjoyment. He looks so cute, I’m tempted to buy one of those books on how to knit clothes for your dog except I’m too embarrassed to walk up to the cashier and pay for it. Wouldn’t he look too cute in a little green and red mock turtleneck? May have to swallow my pride and go for it. Lucky dog.

New baby D pics have arrived and this is my favorite. Man, I need go see that boy again soon!

I read in the newspaper this morning that since July 1st, Portland has had only 11 days of rain. Can you believe that?!?! It’s been clear, sunny and cold here as this strange arctic air mass has descended over us and protected us from all storms. Instead of rain, we’ve gotten record setting chilly weather and bright winter sunshine. My poor roses have started blooming again and I’ve even seen a few very confused daffodils popping their head up. In response to this random cold air mass, Kevin and I have dropped the storm windows, reapplied that weather stripping and caulked all the cracks we can find. Our little house has remained nice and toasty warm and Kevin isn’t thinking I’m quite so crazy for buying two cords of wood this summer. There’s only one chink in our armor.

Artie.

Yes, that darn fat sausage dog must be part malamute because he LOVES the cold weather. In the summer on our walks, he totally poops out and will randomly run up someone’s front lawn and crash under their bushes, panting. During a normal Portland fall when we get rain, I make him wear this little raincoat which he hates and he spends the whole walk moping and trying to wriggle out of if. But now, the clear skies, nippy wind, and busy squirrels seem to invigorate him. All that fur and fat must insulate him very well because he loves his walks and never wants to come back home.

I, however, do not. I roll out of bed and look at the outdoor temperature that’s hovering around 30 degrees and shiver. My dog, meanwhile, is prancing around the bed, howling at me to hurry up. Muttering, I shove myself into a pair of sweats, a turtleneck, socks, sweater, mittens, hat and jacket. All of this is entirely too slow for Artie would runs around me in circles, head butting my legs to make me move faster. All too soon, I’m outside and miserable in the cold morning and the worse part are my ears. No matter what I do, my poor little ears get so cold it hurts.

And so today, as I’m being dragged around the neighborhood by my part polar bear pooch, I suddenly found myself thinking to my old my buddy Jean Chung. (As usual with most of my ramblings, you’ll need a bit of back story here to follow my thoughts.)

I spend my highschool years is sunny southern California where “weather” consisted of days when the marine layer moved inland and “cold” meant anything below 65. My winter wardrobe meant wearing long pants and a t-shirt instead of shorts. In fact, I had one friend who’s claim to fame was that he wore shorts all year round. Basically, it never really got cold.

But every winter, on those particularly chilly days when the temperature dipped into the low 60’s, Jean would show up wearing ear muffs. In fact, there was an actual ear muff outfit if I recall correctly. She had red sweat pants and a matching red sweater with a white stripe through it. The piece de resistance was red, furry earmuffs. No amount of teasing or ridicule would dissuade her. They kept her ears warm and that was good enough for Jean. I can still see her walking across campus, her long black hair held back by the earmuff band.

Now, when I walk my arctic dog in the freezing mornings, and I have lost all feeling in both ears, I can’t help but think maybe Jean was onto something. I’m not too sure where exactly one buys earmuffs but I’ve decided to get a pair. And to pay homage to the one who inspired me, I’m going to get a nice, red fluffy pair. So if you’re driving through the street to NE Portland and see a pair of red muff being dragged along behind a fat dog chasing squirrels, pull over and say hi. I mean, really, who else could it be, right?

Look out red earmuffs, here I come!

I think I might be bi-polar. Well, actually, I think I’m mono-polar if that’s possible.

I was watching tv last night and in between the political ads there was this commercial for some bi-polar drug. It showed this woman who fluctuates between severe depression and wild activity. At one point, the ad says something like…”that crazy up all night working you….” and it shows this woman frantically painting during what appears to be the middle of the night. I’m thinking this image was suppose to invoke a reaction of “wow, that’s a crazy thing to do.” But instead, I found myself thinking, “so what’s so wrong with that?!?!”

This is why I think I’m mono-polar. I don’t have any severe depression, but I do have the crazy-maniacal- go till you drop dead- approach to tasks. I’m quite sure that Kevin believes I need some sort of medication. He asked me the other night as I lay awake in bed plotting my tasks for the next day, “why do you have to do all of that tomorrow?” And you know, I was speechless. Some crazy part of me loves making long lists of tasks, running from A to B to C, and sweating until it hurts. Kevin thinks I’m absolutely certifiable. But I just can’t help myself.

Really, it all comes down to Disneyland. (Yeah, I’m sure your could figure that leap out, right?) Many moons ago, way back in the early 90’s, my dad and I took Kevin to Disneyland. He hadn’t been since he was a kid and he was so excited to see the Magic Kingdom. Only problem was, I wouldn’t let him. He wanted to wander around going on the lame rides like the underwater submarine and the tea cups. I just rolled my eyes and told him no way – those rides sucked. Instead, we ran (I’m not kidding – we actually ran) from big ride to big ride with no pausing for anything like bathroom breaks or electrical parades. No sirree, we had a plan and we were sticking to it. This is how I was raised to do Disneyland – at a dead run.

So you see, I don’t feel too bad about my crazy behavior. Kevin knew, well before that fateful walk down the aisle, all about by mono-polar behavior so I don’t pay much attention to him when he starts complaining that he needs to rest.

Right now, I’m in between projects so Kevin is happy but I figure it’s only a matter of time before my mono-polar disorder kicks into gear. I can hardly wait!

Candy, candy can-dy. Candy candy can-dy.

Halloween is here and Kevin is starting to look a little sick. For the last week or so he’s been gorging himself on fun sized goodies. They’re everywhere – on desks, at meetings, in lunch boxes. It’s so bad that last night, I offered him a Snickers bar and he actually said no. That’s how I know today is Halloween. ‘Cause on any other day of the year, that Snickers would be out of my hand, unwrapped, and gobbled up before I could finish saying, “do you want one?”

A few weeks ago, before Kevin had OD’d on candy, Kat and I took a little girl’s road trip up to Tacoma for a stamp convention. While we were wandering about we ran across a delicious find. Right next to our hotel was to home of Almond Roca. And even more important, next to the manufacturing plant was the outlet store. Inside we discovered the Almond Roca that didn’t make the cut. Either it was wrapped wrong, too short, too long, or not enough chocolate – flaws that we knew would be overlooked by our husbands. Being good wives, we each picked up a tub of boo-boo chocolates.

When I got home, I gave Kevin his tub-o-treats and he ran away crackling with glee. I watched as he pawed at the tub top for a few minutes. Try as he might, he just couldn’t get the lid off of the chocolates.

“Hey, is this candy child-proofed?” he wailed in despair. “Who would child-proof candy? That’s just mean!”, he declared. He looked so forlorn that I took pity on him and opened the tub. I’m thinking he might be onto something though. Putting candy in one of those awful medicine bottles where you have to have just the right hand coordination to open it might be a very good idea. If nothing else, it would slow Kevin down.

I am, however, dreading what will come once the sun goes down tonight. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not a scrooge about Halloween. We are fully decorated and stocked to the brim with goodies. The problem is Artie.

You see, every time that doorbell rings, all Artie sees is a delightful bite-sized treat standing at the door. So I need one hand to open the door and one hand to give out candy and another hand or tow to keep Artie from taking a bite out of the wee little people on the doorstep. Last year, one sweet little girl saw Artie, yelled “puppy” and ran inside before either her mother or I could move. (Those little tikes sure can move fast.) Luckily, Artie was too shocked at being rushed by a kid (they are usually running the other way) to move and her mom was able to pull her back before she lost her arm. I think this year I’m going to lock the pooch in a room until the candy’s run out and the lights are turned off.

Now, I have to go find my costume for tonight. I’m thinking vampire or maybe a pirate. Arrrrg!