The expressions of rain and absolutely fabulous Halloween costumes

In London, the rain 'pisses' or 'lashes.' In Oklahoma, the rain 'pours,' often in quantities of cats and dogs. It also 'buckets.' And if there's one thing this state does, it's rain. In Tulsa, there's an average annual rainfall of 39-40" a year, compared to Seattle at 36". The difference is, ours comes all at once. In buckets. And to borrow the UK term, it lashes down. I remember school being cancelled mid-day because of flash floods, where water would accumulate so fast that you arrive when the pavement's dry and by lunch, you're sloshing to class in water up to your thighs. (Who decided to build a school on a flood plain? Anyone?) I remember sleeping in my sneakers as a small child during tornado season in case we had to make a run for it in the middle of the night. This state is INSANE.

I'm looking out the window as I type this (at 9:15 in the morning), and the sky is black and roaring and the thunder is rumbling so low you can feel it inside your body before you actually realize it's a sound. It won't necessarily be cold out--these storms don't mind the heat nor do they alter it--but you can be sure that roadside ditches will be full of rushing water and all the cars will have their lights on. We knew this storm was coming from the winds last night, nearly pushing us over when we were walking outside. That's something else Oklahoma can do: wind. But I won't start on that subject today, because one, I'm already in danger of over-talking the weather, two, I'm too lazy to look up comparative wind stats, and three, I think the phrase 'Tornado Alley' speaks for itself.

I personally love it. Violent weather, that is. Then again, I'm also not driving to Oklahoma City today; my mother is. She'll be groaning the full two hours to my grandparents' house. It's going to be great.

Here are some pictures I took on my phone of my nieces' Halloween costumes last night:

I think Hunter was going as The Morning After, although my sister insists she had a Hannah Montana wig lying around somewhere. Also, when Hunter first walked into the room, I totally did a double-take, because she looked EXACTLY like my sister at that age and I was like, 'Past? Is that you?' She also looked like my sister at sixteen getting home at two o'clock in the morning, although that could have just been the green eyeshadow playing tricks with my eyes.

This is Peyton, who is apparently going as a Demented Princess. Peyton (a.k.a. PeyPey or Peepers) is nearly IMPOSSIBLE to photograph, even when you're not using an iphone. She is living proof that a perpetual motion machine actually exists. You could NOT get her to hold still. By the time I'd kneel down with my camera, I'd be zooming in to a picture of her back running 20 yards away. This picture above was snapped with phone in a rare moment in which she contemplated the pro's and con's of entering the bouncy house to her right. (Pro's won.)

Here is what a picture of PeyPey usually looks like:

Let's check out Hunter in her Party Girl costume again. I mean, 'Hannah Montana.' Right. I know whenever I'm smearing black eyeliner all over my face (I'm not as precise as my sister was with her daughter) and dolloping on gobs of shimmery green eyeshadow, I'm TOTALLY thinking 'teen popstar.' Also, I NEVER look this good. Alissa, I hope your makeup services are for hire.

Aren't those freckles killer?! They're so perfect. Not too much, not too little--just a fine smattering across the nose! You can't DRAW them any better than that! And trust me--when I was young, I tried.

And in conclusion...more pictures of The Demented Princess: