Rain, rain, rain

51jPbExehrL._SL500_AA300_Once again, spring has decided to funnel water on the Northwest.  Two weekends ago it was lovely- mid seventies weather, with the feeling in the air that winter had indeed ended and better days loomed on the horizon. I had all the cushions out on the back porch and was, briefly, in heaven.

Now, the doom and gloom of the standard Northwest spring has returned, and I find myself suffering from the blahs.  I can’t think straight, much less write a coherent sentence.  On the positive side, my 2nd oldest granddaughter, Courtney, will be staying with us for a few days, so I will have someone to share the misery with.

The locals joke that if you see someone with an umbrella, they’re from out of town. This is not true, as I have a large collection of umbrellas, many of them unbroken and still useful!  Even the cutest umbrellas frequently end up in street-corner trash-bins, ending their days as the tattered and broken relics of impulse purchases.

The winds here in my little valley are known to be death to umbrellas, even expensive ones.

I do confess that I can be seen at large events in the summer with an umbrella keeping the SUN off my lily-white skin! 81UuqzVF-1L._SL1500_

Despite the carnage, I feel compelled to keep buying umbrellas, feeling somehow as if the next umbrella will be the one–the true umbrella for all seasons, able to withstand 40 mph winds and sideways rain-bullets.  I just know that my desire to have some cheery vestige of spring in the form  of a floral print over my head will somehow work out and I will manage to remain both dry and stylish.


The weather here is kryptonite to even a super-umbrella.


Wait… is that…

Oh god.

It’s the one personal rain-shelter superhero that can take the hurricane force winds and merrily give Spring a thumbs-up. ( I’m sure that the one-finger gesture was meant to be a thumb…it’s pointing up anyway….)

31YA3A1XV3L._SX385_It’s  a Golf umbrella, that ubiquitous bastion of Pacific Northwest Fashion. Conversations between middle-aged sisters in Northwest restaurants tend to run like this:

“Is that my umbrella by your chair?”

“No,  its mine. Mine is the blue and white one.”

“MINE is the blue and white one. I’m sure I brought it in with me.”

“Well, this one is mine, see?  Here are my initials. I knew this would happen, so I used a sharpie. You didn’t come in here with an umbrella. Did you leave it in the shoe store?”

“No, I’m sure I had it when we went to Costco. That was after the shoe store. Are you sure that umbrella isn’t mine?”

“NO! It’s mine!”

“Next time I’m getting a red and white one, so I can spot it more easily.”  (Eyes restaurant full of red and white golf umbrellas.)




Filed under Adventure, Battles, Humor, Uncategorized, writer, writing

2 responses to “Rain, rain, rain

  1. Did I ever steal your umbrella? I humbly apologize for any youthful umbrella stealing activities I may have committed. The statute of limitations has surely expired in any case. Also, you did not really address the whole turning inside out thing, or the ‘Mary Poppins Effect’. Is that solely a Pacific Northwest thing? Doesn’t every one choose their umbrella based on the quality of it’s vents (yes, a good umbrella has vents to avoid doing a Mary Poppins) and it’s ability to withstand the whole inside out thing several hundred times? Seriously, watching umbrella ribs explode into shrapnel leaves scars, both physical and mental.


    • HAH!!! As if you would want to steal the mangled wretched thing that would be parked next to MY chair! Besides, I’m not allowed to play with sharpies. And you raise a good point about the vents–that may be where the cute umbrellas fail!.