Tut! Tut! It Looks Like Rain!

I’m such a weather wimp. And the worst thing about that is that I know that I am, and I’m unwilling to change. Or maybe it’s knowing that hale-and-hardy types in the rest of the world are rolling their eyes at me for being such a wuss.

But I assure you, I’m not alone. Where I live, we go crazy whenever it rains – even when it’s still warm, which is usually the case.

Witness: Outside my window, there’s a downpour goin’ on, an unusual weather pattern for typically sunny SoCal. As a result, weather reporters and news stations are on heightened alert:  

“Breaking News! It’s raining! Here, in the Southland! So before heading home on your evening commute, be sure to tune in for our Storm Tracker reports of who’ll get wet, and when!”

I have to run some errands this afternoon, in advance of a trip. But instead, I’m snuggled up in an afghan, inside, because I’m afraid to step outside and get wet.

Oh, bother!

9 Comments

    • I don’t mind the rain when I can see it from inside my home, looking out. In fact, it’s a nice change of pace. However, if I have to go out in it…that’s a different story altogether.

      Hope you are getting enough rain to make your day(s) happy. =:)

  1. I saw a funny article about rain and Southern CA in the NY Times the other day – I think it was entitled “Hello, 9-11? Help! It’s like, pouring rain outside!”
    Here it’s just the opposite. It’s rare the day dawns clear and sunny. So when it does, everyone throws open shutters, curtains, and windows (which is why our house is icy cold this morning – it’s sunny out!)

  2. Oh Pooh Bear, it’s just rain. 🙂 My wife and I are still contemplating a future move to Vancouver, WA, and are excited about all the rain they get. Let it pour. Wait, that’s selfish of me. Now I don’t know what to think.

    • Well, these types of preferences are what makes a place seem like home (or not), don’t you think? If you love the rain, Vancouver’s definitely a great place to consider: there’s no shortage of moisture there! =:)

      However (and a bit selfishly), I have to admit that I’d miss you — and so would the other members of Pure Fiction League.

      • If we were actually forced to resort to moving out of the area when the time comes, the Pure Fiction League withdrawals I would go through would be unbearable. Just last semester when I couldn’t come for 4 months absolutely killed me.

        You, Robyn (when she’s in town), Dave, Cathy, Carol, Cary, etc. would all be those missing pieces to my puzzle I’d pull out at Christmas and just wish that it was a complete picture. 🙂

        See you Thursday.

  3. I found the article jj mentioned. It’s worth a read — and definitely, a laugh. Here are a few snippets:

    TITLE: Hello, 911? It’s like totally pouring, I’m serious. Whole generations of scurrying southern Californians don’t know how to open umbrellas, by Chuck Cohen, correspondent for the Christian Science Monitor

    Hate rain? Tired of opening and closing umbrellas? Turned off by unflattering raincoats? Then it’s time to move to L.A.

    In L.A., “rain is viewed as a slight effrontery,” observes Lezlie Johnson, who moved to L.A. from the wetter climes of Northern California 27 years ago.

    It’s not as if the city doesn’t get soaked. An average of 15.11 inches falls here each year, National Weather Service data show.

    And yet, says Joel Bartlett, weatherman on KGO-TV in San Francisco, a city that considers rain as normal as organic kale, people in Los Angeles “are apt to be taken by surprise when it rains.”

    The shock is understandable. It’s always, to quote Randy Newman, “another perfect day in L.A.” – one more of those sunny, 75-degree days that are as dry as a Noel Coward quip. Skies are usually a cerulean blue. And when clouds appear they’re so perfectly cumulus they seem to have been generated at Pixar.

    All is not perfection, however. For instance, the reddish-green (occasionally greenish-red) smog that hovers over the San Fernando Valley like an alien space- ship often blocks out much of that beautiful sky. But, confronted by an imperfect day, locals know they can hop on a freeway and soon they’ll be gamboling in the Pacific, hiking through a sun-dappled forest, or picnicking in a bucolic meadow.

    But when that perfection turned into drizzling skies this week – with a tropical storm that dropped 2 inches of the “wet stuff” on the city (and more in the foothills) from Monday through early Tuesday then, according to meteorologist Bartlett, a sense of “denial” appears.

    That’s because southern Californians are totally unprepared for, and unable to deal with, anything less than weather perfection. Whole generations have been raised without understanding the need to wear raincoats, or open umbrellas. Rain gear, if it’s owned at all, is relegated to the back of closets or stuffed in car trunks behind beach volleyball nets and straw bags filled with tubes of sunblock. The time-honored trick (in other parts of the country) of not carrying an umbrella or wearing a slicker so it will pour on your parched lawn doesn’t work in Los Angeles where people refuse to open an umbrella or don rain gear when it’s actually raining.

    “[L.A.] is all about image and looking good. And rain is the enemy of that image,” suggests James Purcell, a clinical psychologist who adds that “rain ruins your clothes and your looks.”

    Or as Tom Williams, former editor of Zagat’s Nightlife Guide to Los Angeles, says, “Rain would smear your makeup.”

    Many residents, or their ancestors, moved west to avoid inclement weather. So, when confronted by less than another ideal day, they hide.

    If you doubt this Los Angeles “rain avoidance” syndrome, check out Rodeo Drive when the skies open and water descends. Tourists are immediately identifiable: They’re calmly opening umbrellas, taking rain caps out of their purses and continuing to walk along the street. The natives, however, hover anxiously in store doorways and wait for the “storm” to pass or a valet car parker to drive their automobile up to the door. If they can’t wave down the valet car parker (who is also probably hiding from the “deluge”), they scurry from awning to awning, vainly attempting to time it so they can scurry between drops.

    But, when forced to stay home and deal with “an imperfect day in L.A.,” Robert Masello undoubtedly speaks for many residents when he says, “I tend to close my eyes very, very tight. When I open them the sun is usually out.”(c) Copyright 2006. The Christian Science Monitor

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