Every place I have ever lived - or even spent any time in - seems to have some variation of the saying "if you don't like the weather around here, wait five minutes". All kidding aside, that seems to be the most appropriate statement for what's been going on around here lately.

In early December I was starting to feel a twitching in my right eye as I woke every morning, staggered downstairs and while the coffee was burbling in the maker I'd stare into the dark, looking east, trying to get a glimpse of the mountains to see if there was any snow there yet. Every day it was the same. No. Around that same time, Suzanne and I made a trip to Whistler with Jenny and Rick during which we were treated to a choice of two runs on Blackcomb Mountain or two runs on Whistler Mountain - all of which were narrow, absolutely packed with people, and littered with rocks. You could have skied there in the dark simply by following the shower of sparks in front of you as metal ski edges collided with the underlying granitized powder. Or maybe a better description would be powderized granite.

Then, just before Christmas, the temperature dropped and it snowed buckets. It piled up on my driveway and the deck. Buildings started collapsing from the weight of the snow. It froze into an immovable mass that sat on my drive until just a couple of days ago. The freeway was slick, the back roads impassable and Seattle pretty much shut down since navigating those hills in the city can be daunting even the dry weather. About the time the state legislature was debating renaming the state to Washingsota, a Pineapple Express roared into town dumping inches, and in some cases feet, of rain. The temperature went from nine degrees to fifty-nine degrees and I was feeling like I was wintering in Costa Rica in the green season. I noticed mold growing on the snow in my drive.

Today, most of the western half of the state is underwater. I can see the flooded Snohomish Valley out my window and it's all water. As of late yesterday the only way out of here was either by driving out of the country and into Canada, or by navigating a maze of county roads around the freeway closure in the Chehalis area. Today Stevens Pass is open so the flood of stranded folks can line up for a slow drive east. I'm sure things will improve over the next couple of days, but it's been an interesting winter so far.

I understand the legislature today is introducing a bill to reanme the place Washingglades. I fully expect Jack the Dog to drag up an alligator by the end of the day.

For now, stay dry, wax your skis/snowboard and your surfboard. I'd also recommend checking your closet for both Gortex and Hawaiian shirts. It pays to be prepared. And around here, as they say, if you don't like the weather, just wait five minutes.

Welcome to Northwest Voyager

It's 2009!!

Having survived a full six decades of this circus ride called life, I have decided one of the most important aspects of living is staying in touch with family and friends. I've not been very good at that for the most part so this is an attempt to rectify that oversight.

Obviously, I'm not everyone's "uncle", but in casting about for a catchy tag line, this one popped into my head suddenly, not unlike many of my widely creative inventions - most of which ultimately found success in the hands of others (i.e Mayo pre-mixed in the tuna, the air-pump sneaker among others). The creative genius inside me seems to fail every time in the translation of ideas into millions.

This week's episode finds me huddled inside Black Bear Lodge (aka "Pine River Cabin", "The Cabin Near Lake Wenatchee", "The Leavenworth Ski Cabin", "You Call That a Cabin? I Call That a House") staring out at three feet of snow on the deck and a thermometer that moments ago edged up into double digits. Someone should shovel that snow before the additional three feet sitting on the roof slides down to join it, thus blocking my view out the back door. I'll look around and see if there is anyone who can get to that....

Suzanne and I are on a hunt to replace her recently deceased banana yellow Xterra. It's funny how she continually makes fun of my rattling old Blazer with 160k miles, broken seats, broken windshield, broken fuel gauge and a host of other ailments - it's kind of like me: way too used up to keep doing all the things I'm doing. Meanwhile, the newer, bigger, stronger, faster Xterra has a minor head-to-head with a freeway delimiting Jersey barrier (and an exhilarating near miss with a charging dump truck) and the Nissan is pronounced DOA. Oh well, Detroit Iron once again prevails!

Anyway, for the moment at least, our great outdoor exploits take a brief holiday while we search for a new, modus-transportationis. And while I'm thinking of it - and just for the record - what recession? And what gas price crisis? I must be the only one who fell for all those news stories because you must enter car lots with great caution to avoid being run over by the endless line of SUVs that are flying off the lots.

I'm going to go wander down the road to see if I can find an ambitious teenager to shovel my deck.