I have famously gone on record as being anti-umbrella. Living in the Pacific Northwest, using an umbrella is frowned upon by the locals. It’s just not “cool.” One of the surest ways Portlanders can identify people from out of town is when they’re walking in the rain carrying an umbrella. We even have a term we use for these folks.
We call them “Californians.”
Tara was confused by this umbrella revulsion when she first moved out here. “Without an umbrella, you get wet,” she said.
“That we do!” I replied. “It’s like a badge of honor.”
At that point, she just shook her head at me sadly and walked away. Into the rain. Carrying an umbrella (and in the process proving that she is the smart one in this relationship, I suppose – or at least the one with dry hair).
I never really felt the need for an umbrella, having become quite nimble at making mad dashes across the parking lot whenever the heavens opened up. For years, I didn’t even own an umbrella. But that all changed two weeks ago, when I picked one up in a gift shop in Long Beach, Washington.
And I’ve actually been using it, too.
Why the sudden change of heart after so many years of denial? I blame the roughest winter we’ve had in my 20+ years of living here. It’s been raining, which of course is nothing new in the PNW, but the amount and intensity of the rain has been staggering. We’ve already had over 10″ of rain in February alone, blowing past our average monthly rainfall (just over 3″) in the first few days. It’s actually now officially the wettest February in Portland history. After a wet January, and a wet December, and a wet November, and…well…you get the picture.
And when it hasn’t been raining, it’s been snowing. Lots of that, too. The winter of ’16-’17 is one for the ages, no doubt.
So I finally broke down and bought that umbrella. I had to. I like to walk 3-4 miles a day, and too often found myself stuck inside because of yet another torrential downpour. Or soaked, because I stubbornly clung to my no-umbrella policy and insisted on braving the elements. And then one day recently I went out walking during lunch and came back to the office drenched. I had to peel off my shoes and socks and aim a portable heater in my direction while suffering through wet jeans the rest of the afternoon. It was in that moment that I finally saw the light. Now, I’m carrying around an umbrella. I still feel a little weird doing so, but I am also experiencing another sensation – dryness – and that’s kind of a novelty to me.
Just don’t call me a Californian.
This weekend has been damn near perfect.
Friday, we ventured out for a night on the town. Our first stop was a great little tapas place called Navarre for dinner. Unfortunately, when we were seated and began looking over the menu, we discovered that most of our favorite dishes were no longer on there. RIP, crab cakes. So we were faced with a dilemma: should we stay and order a bunch of things we didn’t really feel like eating, or bolt instead for greener pastures? In the end, we chose Option B. I mumbled some excuse about “a family emergency” to our server as we hastily beat a retreat. Awkward moment, but we don’t get out as often as we used to, and I really wanted to enjoy it! We ended up at Eastburn instead, where I had a fantastic steelhead filet over barley risotto, and Tara enjoyed a wild boar ragu. Leaving, in this case, was the best thing we could do.
We then headed over to Mississippi Studios for a Neil Young tribute. Three local bands were performing three of Neil’s albums in their entirety (“Comes A Time,” “Harvest,” and “Rust Never Sleeps”). The music was great and the cocktails were stellar. We didn’t get home until well past midnight, but it was a lot of fun.
Saturday we had a rare break in the weather, so I left the umbrella at home and we drove out to Lyle, in the Columbia Gorge, for a 4-mile hike along the Klickitat River. We stopped in Stevenson for a drink and a quick bite to eat before heading home. Gorgeous views and, though the trail was mostly snow-covered, it was pretty easy to navigate.
Today we are meeting my parents for lunch at Rusty Grape Vineyards. They do a mean wood-fired pizza and, of course, there will be wine.
Have a great week!
Mark My Words 
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