It's called the Pineapple Express when the jet stream funnels all the tropical moisture from Hawaii straight to the California coast. What is feels like is 5 days and counting of non-stop rain. Contrary to popular belief, it does not rain like this in England. You can have five days of rain, but there are usually brief sunny spells, or a pause for some gloomy but dry intervals. This feels like a monsoon, as if someone turned on a tap and left the room. California is not prepared, evidenced as much by the truly eclectic rain-gear people are wearing as much as the mudslides and overflowing creeks. It bears repeating California - Uggs are NOT rainboots. Our office waiting room smells like wet sheep.
The girls are loving it, puddles, umbrellas and wellies are a real novelty. For my parents - not so much. They are resigned to the weather, saying with their customary cheeriness 'well at least it's not cold and wet'. It takes a lot to say that when you spend enormous sums to leave England for 'sunny' California. I feel bad for them, that their lounging by the outdoor pool and their beach walks are traded in for jigsaws and colouring, I feel like I've got them over here on false pretenses - I always feel bad when California under-performs weather-wise.
Still, they are enjoying the girls and O.M.G. Anna and Lucy are lapping up all the attention. They are like organ grinder monkeys, pirouetting and chirruping at the slightest glance their way. Lucy is managing to let the facade drop occasionally, and my Mum and Dad have been privy to one or two of her 'Lucifer' moments when, for example, she got a Christmas ornament in her advent calendar and not a chocolate and she threw the offending bauble at the tree and then thew herself down on the floor (where we left her).
I don't know where she gets it from, she is such a 'Little Miss'. Hilarious.
By the way, for those of you starved of a little Christmas spirit this year, borrow a 5-year old. Anna is in a frenzy of excitement; no surface remains undecorated, no Christmas movie un-watched, no carol remains unsung. She is a paper chain factory. A one-woman Christmas pep-rally. If I wasn't all amped up on spiced apple cider I would be exhausted.
I think it's going to be a good Christmas.