It Was A Dark and Stormy Night...

Ah yes, I know today's title is the standard for every "terrible first paragraph" contest ever created, but it's also a fact here in Tarzana (Los Angeles Suburb). Rather than a normal storm, tonight feels more like somebody is standing just outside of my window, throwing buckets of water against it. The weather forecasts all predicted a 20-year rain event tonight through tomorrow; it seemed impossible this morning as it was bright and sunny without a cloud in the sky. But apparently, Fritz (Coleman from NBC) got it right.

Dogs are not in favor of rain. I think I've blogged about it here before, but it stands repeating. They don't like it at all. It's become a real battle of wills to get them outdoors to take care of business when the sky is misbehaving. Tonight was no exception.

Cosmos, who used to be my bad boy when it came to the issue of being fully housebroken, has been somewhat docile about the affair. Once outside, he gives me a glance over his shoulder through the screen door, and then proceeds down the one step on my patio and makes his way to my small patch of earth. Takes care of business, and then is ready to come back inside.

Sunny, however, is a different matter. This is the first year that he has vehemently objected to going outside in inclement weather. I don't know if it's because he's old (so is Cosmos) or whether it's more to be blamed on his lack of undercoat. He decided, mid December, that it was a great time to shed. I have to physically force him out the door, then he huddles against the screen without doing anythng at all until I let him in. He won't even let Cosmos under the overhang when he's there.

Once inside, both wet dogs proceed under their own volition, directly to the "Dog Drying Station." Cosmos, this year, seems to be the dog with more of a sense of humor. Sunny is just miserable; standing by in a huddle until I take a towel down and remove the offending water from his back.
I love drying Cosmos off with a 101 Dalmatian towel. It's a pity that it's threadbare and doesn't do a very good job.
Tonight's storm is supposed to hang around into Monday, then we are expecting warmer weather until Wednesday when yet another round of rain is predicted.
Wet dogs are miserable and misery loves company. Now that everyone has been "processed" and are only damp, they've put themselves into my (our) bed for a good roll on the down comforter and a nice night's sleep.

And me? I left an internet chat about 30 minutes ago because the lights have been flickering and I'm afraid of a power failure while I'm on the computer. I suppose I should really sign off now and power down. Gather my candles and matches. Take a hot bath. And call it a night.

Good night!

Doh! (Slapping the forehead a la Homer Simpson)

I'm really missing my camera. That being said, the fortunate thing is that I have a huge bank of pictures available to publish along with the pics that interest me on the internet. Yesterday morning, I got up early and filled out all the paperwork to have it - the camera - repaired. I found the receipt which Eric printed out for me last Sunday. Located the original Fuji FinePix box and taped the address label onto the front. (Did you know that if you print a barcode out on an address label, the Post Office claims that they will deliver your package one day sooner?) Found the bubble paper that I had lovingly stored in my hall closet instead of popping it as I would have been more inclined to do had I acted on my impulse. And, after a lengthy search for the actual camera, packed the whole she-bang up. Weighed it. Stuck a bunch of stamps on. And laid it out in the entryway to be taken to the Post Office. My intention was to drop the package off during the same trip (by car because of the rain) in which I was to go to the market. But silly me, being distracted as usual, I forgot. When I got home, I was quite upset with myself, but I looked at the clock. 4:30. One half hour until the last scheduled pick-up. The Tarzana Post Office is an interesting place. Tarzana, a suburb of Los Angeles, actually was named for Tarzan. Burroughs lived here when he wrote the series. They have a whole display of Tarzan memorabilia in the lobby to view while waiting in line. And I enjoy walking there since it's maybe 1/4 mile from my front door. 4:30pm. One half hour until the last pick-up. One half hour until I was due in Richard's Monday night chat. I could make it. I quickly changed into my walking shoes and, ignoring the dog's pleas for an early dinner, grabbed the box and headed out the door. A quick right once outside of my complex, and a left at the corner. Through the pedestrian-only underpass at the 101 freeway (it stinks in there) and, upon emerging at the other side, I am at my destination. And confused. Where normally there would be a lot of traffic and tons of cars parked in the lot, there were only a few people coming and going. I thought to myself "It must be the rain" and hurried along. But realized, when I burst through the front door, that "Doh! I am not always the brightest gal in town." It was Martin Luther King's birthday and the Post Office was closed. The rain has begun. It's supposed to rain pretty heavily for the next week or so, and so I have set up the dog-drying station just inside of my front door. (Sorry. No camera, no pictures.) 100% of the dogs surveyed disapprove of the sky dropping water on their backs. Both dogs do enjoy their walks though, and in a last-ditch attempt to lose measurable weight before I am forced to have my knee surgically fixed, I'm walking them rather extensively on a daily basis. Thank goodness that the rain and walking are not mutually exclusive. Both dogs could appear on a fashion runway. Both dogs own raincoats. Cosmos shows off his 'designer' duds. Yes, it says "It's Raining Cats and Dogs." Sunny, in his preferred more rugged look. Cosmos: "Who is this sky that drops water on me?" Sunny: "Walk! Walk! Walk! Walk..." Do you like Pina Colada? Getting caught in the rain?