Ben and I woke this morning around 5 a.m. to the gorgeous sound of rain falling. Is there anything in the world as comforting as cuddling with your loved ones in a big warm bed while the rain falls outside? It was harder than usual to get up this morning.

This storm was a bit unexpected, and odd. While our storms usually come down the Pacific coast from Alaska, this one came northward from Baja California in Mexico. (Hey, I’ll take it where I can get it.) The forecast was only for a small chance of showers today and tonight, but the storm took a funny turn and hit us both head-on and early. The rain is expected to continue all day and into tonight.

So cool. If we’re lucky, we’ll get more rain out of this storm alone than we had all the winter of 2006-2007.

Footnote for California residents: Effective January 1, 2006, California law requires all vehicles to turn on their headlights when there is rain sufficient to require the use of windshield wipers. Vehicle Code Section 24400. Get with the program, people.

The family was riding in the car the other day, and Ben and I were having a conversation about, oh, I can’t remember what. But at one point I remarked God, that’s painful.

From the back seat Matt audibly gasped. I turned around and looked at him, and he shouted PAINFUL? I HATE painful!

He does have a point there.

Julia has become diabolical — DIABOLICAL! — with her routine of squirreling things away. In addition to losing me my debit card some months back by stashing it down the side of a leather magazine bucket, she has now begun stashing things willfully and maliciously.

She uses a pacifier, which she calls a deedee. She likes the Mam pacifier, which is of course the most expensive brand. Over the months since she took up the deedee, we have purchased 17,546 of these pacifiers at $3.99 to $4.39 a two-pack. And do you know how many of them we can actually find? Four. Because Boolie has stashed the rest of them somewhere, and will not say where.

When we ask her where all her deedees went, she says serenely, Santa will bring me more deedees. In other words, she couldn’t care less.

Or take yesterday. I came to pick up Boolie and Matt from day care, and the day had turned quite cool for late November — in So Cal, this means they have to wear shoes and a sweater. Julia went toddling out of the house in her bare feet, and I yelled to her to come back for her shoes. Only one shoe was in evidence. The day care lady and I queried her again and again: Julie, find your shoe. Where is your other shoe?

Finally she grinned at us angelically and said I hided it.

WHERE? I howled, beginning to search under the furniture. She stood back and allowed me to do this for a few minutes, then dived under a chair cover and pronounced Here, holding up her other shoe.

I couldn’t help it. I called her a booger to her face. If this makes me a bad mom, so be it. Because not only does she hide things, she hides them with the direct purpose of winding me up.

Julia, who turned two in August, is exhibiting the wondrously strong sense of self which is the hallmark of the Terrible Twos. At two, a child has just obtained a clear grasp of the idea of himself or herself as a completely separate person from parents and sibs, and it’s charming to watch Boolie define herself. She speaks in declarative sentences:

“I am a baby.”

“I am an angel.”

“I am Julia.”

“I am Princess Buttercup.”

“I am a doorbell” [family code for adorable].

You go, Boolie. You are all those things and then some, and you are such a joy to us.

The National Weather Service has backed off its forecast for a new round of Santa Ana winds this week, making fire much less of a hazard than was anticipated under last week’s extended forecast. This has got to be a good thing. The communities affected by the Santiago Fire are still reeling from the blow.

On Saturday, our family toured the burn areas in Santiago and Modjeska Canyons. The firefighters can only be called heroic. It was quite obvious from the burn patterns that many homes, ranches, businesses and schools had flames lapping at their very doorsteps. A number of homes were lost, but what was more remarkable to us was how many were saved, and at what close range.

Modjeska Canyon is a remote community on the border of the Cleveland National Forest. The road in and out of the canyon isn’t really two lanes; if you meet oncoming traffic, one of you has to pull over. That’s the only route in and out of the canyon. The fire appeared to have come right up to the main road, meaning that some fleeing residents must have had to practically drive through a wall of flame to escape.

On Saturday, as we passed through, the community was cheerily rebuilding with firefighters and volunteers joining forces to continue cleanup efforts and shore up denuded hillsides with hay bales (come the rainy season, mudslides are always likely in burn areas). There was a plant sale and a benefit concert planned for later in the day. We saw a few houses that had been completely destroyed, only a chimney left standing; but for every one of those, there were fifteen more which had been saved. I imagine a lot of Modjeska residents are feeling extra thankful this year.

Thanksgiving now looks to be cloudy and chilly: perfect holiday weather by local standards. We’re having a quiet Thanksgiving at home with just the Ohana. That’s fine; low stress is good. And, as always, even with all the insanity and the chaos that earmark our life, there is a ton of love to go around. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Love your family as hard as you can.

Yesterday was the fourth birthday party of Matt’s best friend, Trevor. They held it at Chuck E. Cheese. Ordinarily this fact alone would be enough to make me run away screaming, but Trev is a good kid and my three really wanted to go to his party. So we went, Ben and me and Sam, Matt and Julia. The kids had a blast, anyway. It was unbelievably crowded. You had to stand in line for 25 minutes to buy a beer.

I am a famous misanthrope and have been frequently heard to say that hell is other people. After our Chuck E. Cheese experience, though, I need to amend that. Hell is other people’s children.

The National Weather Service in San Diego is predicting another bout of strong offshore winds and dry conditions for next Tuesday through Thanksgiving Day. This could mean another round of wildfires. There’s been exactly three drops of rain since the last set of wildfires, which means this next event could be even worse than the last.

Out-of-towners: Wish us luck. Local arsonists and smokers are urged to remain indoors.

The Wayfarers have arrived, and they are so beautiful and SO authentic. You know how it’s always sort of dicey buying designer items on eBay, because it’s sort of like those guys at the swap meet who SAY they want to sell you a Louis Vuitton bag for $200, and you don’t quite believe them because you know damned well they retail for $1000?

But I paid a good price for these Wayfarers, and God, are they authentic. I got not only the authentic Ray-Ban box, but the authentic Ray-Ban case and the little cloth and the little propaganda folders to try to make you spend big bucks on more Ray-Bans. They’re so authentic I can’t handle it. And they are SO beautiful.

Happy belated bluesy birthday to me. (Bonus: these Wayfarers are big enough that I can almost hide the fact that I’m 47.)

Here in So Cal, sunglasses are as necessary as, well, underwear. (Actually I shouldn’t say underwear, now that so many locals are going without and are willing to be so photographed.) Anyway, everyone wears them everywhere. My current favorites are some retro modified cat’s-eyes from Target with a sprinkling of rhinestones about the edges.

Recently, though, our bathroom book has been Belushi, a collection of quotes from people who knew John Belushi collected by his widow, Judy. (A good bathroom book is always broken down into short bits or vignettes, so that you can read just one or two, or a bunch, depending upon your time requirements.) The net result of this was that I developed a powerful boner for some real Blues Brothers Ray-Ban Wayfarers. Of course, this is not in our budget. Target sunglasses are what’s in our budget.

Yesterday, though, I received a belated birthday card from my mother-in-law containing a check for $75 and a notation to use this money to buy yourself something you wouldn’t otherwise buy. Well, those words are enough to put anyone on a Mission From God.

Ten minutes on eBay, and my Wayfarers are on the way. Sweet. And bluesy.

Ben bought me a new vacuum cleaner over the weekend, and I love it sooooo much. I had a previous affair with an apple-green Hoover to which I was turned on by Holly Burns of Nothing But Bonfires, but one of my evil children removed a crucial part of the Hol-Vac, rendering it useless.

This baby sucks so hard men should rent it out for dates on lonely nights. Furthermore, it has lovely attachments including a telescoping duster which I don’t yet understand, but anything that gets me to actually dust has got to be a good thing.

In other news, the Green Bay Packers whomped the Minnesota Vikings 34-0. My Basenji dog Rudy actually barooed with joy when the Pack scored a touchdown. How sweet is that?

Life is gooooooood. Little things matter.