California doesn't have winter, at least as the rest of the country understands it. If by "winter" you mean a season of snow and hard freezes, then it is measured in days, and doesn't even happen every year. But what cold and storms we get seems bad enough to us, because we don't know any better.

Today started out as a Winnie-the-Pooh blustery day, which has since turned into a storm bad enough to flood some streets -- at least according to my son, Trevor, who got it into his head to go adventuring out into this cold monsoon. This morning, before the rain really hit, I wandered out to see what my husband, Jim was working on, only to find him atop a ladder that was way too wobbly for my peace. So, I got a coat on and took on the job of ladder-steadier and tool-holder, while Jim fitted out Trevor's bedroom window with plastic. Last night's rain had leaked into the house, so, true to form, we were fixing it in between storms, instead of ahead of time like more practical people would. Being around Jim when he's doing even the smallest household repair job is somewhere between a joke, and an exercise in patience. So I'm standing there with nails in my coat pocket, trying to steady the ladder while holding scissors and a staple gun, while he's cussing "This is fucking ridiculous" under his breath. And it generally is, although this time actually went better than most, since usually he has to stop any job like this in the middle to go uptown for some part or tool or something. I've really been working on patience, which isn't one of my more outstanding qualities, so instead of grumbling inwardly at his lack of handyman competence, I took deep breaths, and hummed "If I had a Hammer".

I find there's lots of things I want to say, but they will have to wait for another time. There are things to be done before the power goes out, which is pretty likely in this wind.