Blues

The winter fucking blues.

Ugh.

They seem to have crept up on me, but they're here. It's cold, it's grey, it's wet and windy - to be expected for this corner of the world, at this time of the year, yes. But it feels like it's been cold, grey, wet and windy for five months now. Oh wait, that's because it has been. With a good couple of months more to go.

Ugh.

This morning I received an email from Shutterfly, about a free offer of 101 prints. This is perfect for catching up on the backlog of photos I need printed for our photo album, and an offer that I occasionally take up, so I opened up our iPhoto library to start compiling.

The trouble was, it had been a while since I last got a big batch printed and so I needed to dig out the fat envelopes sitting next to our photo albums - still waiting to be dated and ordered, then placed in an album - to see where I was up to in the backlog.

The photos I've just sorted through were from November 2011 to August 2012. From memory, when I received them I was happy to (then) be only a year behind in printing photos... and then promptly placed them next to the albums, delaying the dating (which I like to do, in case the photos get misplaced or handed over to the Faery and Miss Pie down the track, so that they'll know how old they were).

This means I've just finished the excruciating process of putting about a hundred photos in order and writing dates on their backs - necessitating a trip down memory lane.

The majority of the photos were from the winter period of 2011-2012, and the contrast between life in Washington and life in California has never felt so stark. The photos were full of blue skies, palm trees, turquoise swimming pools, sun-kissed limbs and golden-freckled faces. T-shirts and skirts weren't just theoretical, they were actually worn on warmer days in winter.

It didn't take long today for it to start physically hurting as I picked up each printed photo. Life in L.A. wasn't perfect, but it was still pretty sweet.

I've been trying to convince myself for some time that life in Seattle is better for us. J's the happiest he's ever been with a job, our finances are slowly improving, the air is cleaner, the schools are better... and let's not forget the coffee.

However, it's harder to focus on those things lately. Perhaps I'm just being an ungrateful whiner, but all I seem to focus on right now is the cold crappy weather, that I have little in the way of friends here, and that my current job is one that I don't particularly love.

I'm not feeling happier here. I think I was happier there.

I want to be happier here.

I don't know what the solution is, but all I want to do is eat my feelings with pastries, doughnuts and chocolate. That's part of the problem, I know. I need to get into exercise again, but the weather isn't exactly inspiring me, and the yoga classes I've looked into seem to clash with school.

Meanwhile, I continue to put on the happy face I'm so good at putting on, because that's what I do.

Maybe it's time I googled Vitamin D lamps...

November musings

Ma'am

For my first few years in the US, whenever someone addressed me as "Ma'am", I couldn't help but turn and look behind me, certain that there must be an older woman standing nearby. Ma'am just isn't used in Australia, so my associations with that word are purely based on American films and TV shows. I certainly never felt like a ma'am... and then the other day as I was on a stroll, a male driver pulled up and asked me for directions. He addressed me as ma'am, and I liked it. I especially love the way people from the South use it so frequently.

It's one of those words that seems to be used out of respect and politeness, and I've come to appreciate that. Outside of the US, there's a stereotype about Americans being rude and without manners but that hasn't been my experience while living here. I'll admit that I used to hold those same preconceptions about Americans, but living here has changed that.


Nature 

The current autumnal weather means the grounds are overloaded with leaves, and it's beautiful. About a week ago, we had a huge windstorm overnight which pretty much took our power out for most of the weekend (not cool, Seattle, not cool - especially at this time of year). Something that feels odd at times, though, is sweeping or vacuuming the pine needles that get tracked into our home. For me, pine needles indoors has only ever been in connection with having a real Christmas tree, so - without a Christmas tree in sight yet - I can't help but smile when I find pine needles on our floor.

Another aspect of living in such a damp environment is the sheer amount of moss everywhere. It makes me grateful to be living in a building which isn't sheltered by trees, as I've seen a lot of green fuzzy rooftops around. In addition to the moss, I've now become aware of lichens - something I'd never really encountered (or at least noticed) in the past. Bare trees are now sprouting lichens up and down their trunks and along branches, and wooden fences are covered the same way. The soft blue-green delicate patterns remind me of snowflakes, and I'm finding myself peering for closer glimpses on my walks.

Going for walks isn't something I'm doing a great deal of these days. The cold and wet isn't something I've embraced yet, so I'm feeling a little like a hermit. Today, I thought Well, we've got months and months and months of this to go, so it's time to put your big girl panties on and go for a walk in the rain with Miss Pie. Deal with it. Get used to it.

So we did... and it was even less of an adventure than I'd hoped for. When we left the house, it was lightly raining and although we each had raincoats on, Miss Pie wanted to bring an umbrella too. Part of me was thinking, but if we're going to be locals, we have to learn not to bother with umbrellas... and then the other part of me reminded myself, fuck it, you hate water streaming off the top of your hood and into yours eyes... so the umbrellas won.

Then only two blocks down the hill, the whining began. Her umbrella was tricky to carry. She didn't want it up. She didn't want it down. She didn't want to carry it. Water was seeping into her boots through brand new holes at the heels (a record time for new boots not lasting). Her socks were getting wet and sticky. She didn't want sticky feet. Her hands were cold. Her mittens were getting wet.

At that point, we were more than halfway to the destination I had in mind (a French bakery) so I pushed on... and then the mother of all deluges kicked in. No amount of umbrellas or raincoats or functional boots could have kept us comfortably warm or dry. Once we got to the bakery, hot chocolate, coffee and pastries saved the day. We warmed up, watched the rain get even heavier out the windows, thanked our lucky stars that we were inside, and then waited for the rain to ease. The pastries were so good, I was tempted to just spend the entire afternoon there, stuffing my face.

Thankfully, by the time we made our getaway, the rain did stop. It was a steep hill back home, and I braced myself for even more whining... but with the rain gone, suddenly everything in Miss Pie's world was hunky dory. Puddles to stomp in (wet socks be damned). Slushy piles of leaves to kick. More puddles. More leaves. Water-droplet enhanced spider webs to admire. Gurgling storm water drains to watch.

The walk back home was the walk I'd been hoping for when we'd first set off.

I'm not sure how many months of cold wetness I can handle though. People here - other transplants - tell me the first winter is the hardest. Locals - born and bred - laugh and tell me every winter sucks.

High time I learned to make mulled wine then. I have a feeling I'll be needing it...

Puddles

Today, we had only our third rainfall (that I can think of) in a month, and before that, it hadn't rained since spring.

I suppose when you're twenty-two months old, and haven't seen much rain in a long time, it's a rather intriguing affair. When it was time to do the afternoon school run, the rain began coming down quite heavily, so I covered up Miss Pie and let her stomp around out the front while I got ready.

When I returned a few moments later, I expected her to be stomping like crazy but found her standing still, completely entranced by the falling drops and the sound of echoing drips from the nearby gutters. She was utterly still, and looked completely at peace.

Then she came to her senses, and realised exactly what her boots were intended for. Tranquility gone, just like that. A splashing frenzy ensued.

Although the rain had stopped by the time we got to the Faery's school, she managed to get her legs and arms completely soaked from all the puddle-stomping and hand-splashing. She had a ball.

Most of the adults standing around waiting watched her in envy. Some even expressed a wish to jump in the puddles too.

It's the simple things, right? Jumping puddles and splashing - well, who really grows out of that?

Water in the city

Here's a photo from a few months back, driving home from Burbank on a wet, twilight-y Sunday:

I like it for a couple of reasons. First, the motion from the car as we drove through the intersection of this street gives it a lovely little trippin' feel. Secondly, because people tend to associate L.A. with palm trees and clear blue skies - those are the images we are bombarded with from TV shows and films. While it's true that the weather here is fabulous a lot of the time, there are definitely grey, drizzly days to balance it out a little.

Today is one those days, which is why I thought of this photo. I got soaked this morning, after taking the Faery to preschool, and Miss Pie to get her vaccinations. Her stroller has a rain cover, so she stayed toasty dry. Whenever the locals see her in her pram with the cover, they freak out: "Oh wow! Look at her, she's in a plastic bubble... oh my god, can she breathe okay in there?" I often wonder what they'd say if I replied that, no, she can't breathe - because obviously, I would put a non ventilated cover over my child. Mothers on foot with strollers are a rare sight (in my neighbourhood; I'm not speaking for all of L.A.). I guess when it rains, we're even rarer. I get the impression that no one around here has ever seen a rain cover for prams.

Anyhow, as I walked home with my head facing down from the rain, I saw a house with... sprinklers on in the garden. Sprinklers in the rain.

Yeah, only in La La Land, huh?

It's not the first time I've seen this. I realise people have their sprinklers on auto-timers, but you'd think if it'd been raining all night and into the morning, at some point it might occur to the owners that they could switch the system off for a day or two and save some water, right?

This kind of waste is something that never fails to leave me gobsmacked. Growing up in a country where droughts are a fact of life, and most areas have heavy water restrictions enforced, I've been conditioned to shudder and think of the hefty fines I'd face if I dared use a sprinkler in Sydney - let alone when it's raining.

Moving to a city that's been built over a desert, I assumed there would be similar restrictions, but so far I've yet to see a single pamphlet, sign or advertisement that promotes water conservation. I've only learned the official water mandate policies (as they call them here) for where we live by going online and digging a little. The information I found listed the specific restrictions, but no mention of fines if the restrictions are breached.  It makes me wonder if there are actually any consequences of not following the mandate.

La La Land: the city of contradiction. Smoking is banned in every square inch of public space, but hey, let's look the other way when people use more than their fair share of water. Who needs it anyway?

L.A. Woman in the rain

Who said it never rains in Los Angeles? They were so wrong.

This morning I managed to get out by myself for a bit.

The weather was wild. The mountains were hidden under the weight of clouds, the rain was coming sideways, and the recent spring-like weather seemed to have skedaddled.

A feature of L.A. life is that supermarket car parks seem to be sprawled out around the buildings. There are are no sun shade cloths, and covered parking only really applies to the multi-level parking structures. I guess this is because people focus on the lack of rain.

It means that in summer, your car turns into an oven. I've always wondered why - for such a warm, sunny climate - sun shade cloths haven't been installed (like the ones on rooftop levels of car parks in Sydney). Palm trees may look pretty, but they don't exactly provide shade.

When it does actually rain, you get soaked - like I did today.

Driving home, I didn't mind being wet. I'd managed to acquire more hot cross buns, and was coasting along nicely on a caffeine buzz, feeling toasty warm inside the car.

I had the heat blowing onto my hands to thaw them out, and the steady vawp vawp vawp of the windscreen wipers transported me back to being a kid again. There's something so soothing about that sound, and feeling cocooned from the immediate wet landscape whizzing by.

And what a landscape this morning. The palm trees were swaying and the streets were littered with palm branches - resembling Miami in hurricane season instead of L.A. in spring.

The way these palm trees punctuated every corner I turned, every street I drove down... they reminded me of the inverted exclamation marks used for Spanish.

The soundtrack in my head was L.A. Woman by The Doors.

"The cars hiss by my window, like the waves down on the beach... "

It's an album that my parents played a lot when I was little, and an album that I know by heart. Every nuance, every beat.

That whole album is my lullabye. Even in my twenties, if I had trouble falling asleep at night, all I had to do was listen to L.A. Woman.

Tonight, that won't be necessary, though. I have the rain drumming on my window, and that sound is almost as soothing for me as Mr Mojo Risin's voice...