So I guess Mother Nature's been reading the blog and is sick of my whining. The weather has suddenly turned downright balmy. As I was driving home tonight, my Passat showed the temperature at 77 degrees. Today, one of my patients told me we were supposed to have Santa Ana Weather for the next week or so. I'm not completely thrilled with this, as it was the Santa Anas that helped develop the Cedar Fire in October of 2003, shortly after we moved here. That was a scary experience. We were right between two of the fires, and it was an amazing thing to see. The fire jumped 12 lanes and a median on Interstate 15. At night, you could stand out on our street and see the fires burning to the northeast and southeast. The air was full of ash and a nasty burnt smell for days.

Anyway, I thought the timing was great - good weather for trick or treating. It reminded me of one year, seventh grade, I think, when it actually snowed as we were trick or treating. Bryan told me one year in Minnesota, they had three feet of snow on Halloween. Of course people were out trick or treating anyway.

Not too many trick or treaters tonight. Around here, it really peaks between 6 and 7pm, then dies off quickly. Bailey left dog daycare all decked out in a pumpkin bandanna and with a trick or treat bag filled with a squeaky devil, orange and black ball and candy, which I'm pretty sure is for us, since chocolate is a big no-no for dogs.

Happy Halloween! (And step away from the candy bowl...)

My husband, Bryan, once again proved to be my hero. He managed to find someone he knew who has the first season of Lost on DVD, and borrowed the seven disc set for me.

And he's barely seen me since.

It's been a Lost weekend, if you will. Bryan, somehow, is not addicted to Lost like I am, so while he's watched hockey and football and sitcoms and played X Box, I've been holed up in front of the LCD TV in the bedroom with the DVD player. As previously posted, I'd only started watching during the second season, so I already knew a few things, but really didn't have much of the backstory on the castaways, or what had gone on during the first month on the island. After watching all 24 episodes from the first season, I'm even more intrigued. And even though I knew what had been happening currently, the first season dredged up a lot more questions. Who is this Boone guy? (Ohhhhh, so that's why he's not around in the second season.) What's the deal with the French Lady? What exactly did Kate do to land her in so much trouble, and when did it start? And why was her mom scared to death when she came to visit? And what the heck happened between Jack and his wife?! It's also been fun to notice those mysterious numbers coming up again, and again. Flight 815 left from gate 23. Jack was sitting in row 23, Ana Lucia in 42. And in the hatch - do they really need to keep typing those numbers in, or is it just a big psych experiment?

Thank God I didn't watch the show during the first season. Being able to watch the episodes unfold without commercial breaks or an interminably long one week wait in between would have driven me crazy. I wish I had that luxury now! Next week is a repeat again!

I think I'll be adding the DVD set of the first season to my Christmas list.

So, here's how I know I've lived in San Diego too long: The high temperatures during the day are in the low 70s, nighttime temps are in the high 50s/low 60s and I've put the flannel sheets on the bed. I admit it, I've become a total baby about the weather. Growing up in Seattle, 75 was the perfect temperature. 80 was sweltering and anything above 80 was unbearable. Now I don't even bother putting on shorts unless it's over 85, and the central air conditioning doesn't go on until it's over 95. It's weird how quickly you can acclimate to changes.

Anyway, getting into bed at night with regular sheets was just way too cold, so now it's time for flannel. I'm still sticking with the regular quilt - I'll hold off on the down comforter until it gets a little chillier at night.

Fall has apparently arrived in San Diego. The past week's weather has been remarkably like Seattle, prompting a little homesickness. On Saturday, approximately Day Four of overcast/light sprinkling and chilly highs in the 60s, I was complaining to Bryan that I wish I was in Seattle, and rattled off a list of things I'd go do if I were there. Ever the wonderful husband, he listened sympathetically, and then pointed out that we're not in Seattle.

Fate stepped in later that night, in the form of my fabulous, fabulous Dad, who had worked a little airline magic and arranged for me to come home to Seattle the weekend of November 12th, for my best friend's wedding reception. Big thanks to my Dad, for being the ultimate magic-worker and to Bryan for being the best husband ever, and being okay with the fact that I'll be out of town for his birthday, even though he's scheduled to be out on patrol that weekend. Since I have that Friday off, I'm leaving late Thursday night. Stacey's reception is on Saturday, and at some point, I'm definitely going to check out the Lush store at Bellevue Square. Then it's home on Sunday around noon.

It's odd to be homesick for Seattle. We've lived in San Diego for more than two years now, and I mostly like it. Yeah, people drive like they're on crack, but you can't beat the weather and the huge range of things to do. Still, I think our long term plans will put us back in Seattle down the road, and in the meantime, I'll be there in November!