When I told my family and friends that I was moving out West in May, they all laughed at me.

“Ha ha — it’s gonna rain all the time and you’re going to be drenched. Be sure to bring an umbrella.”

When I interviewed for this job, then editor-in-chief Chris Case asked me if I could deal with all the rain and gray that this area receives, because it can be a pretty big mood-changer.

Ahem. A little history here.

I lived in Southeast Ohio in the Appalachia Mountain Range for four years while attending college and it rained from November to April. I stood outside in 30 degree weather on many November afternoons passing out fliers for my college radio station. I traversed through snow to get to class and slipped many times on the wet brick paths between buildings.

Cincinnati weather is just flat out ridiculous — even the “Doppler Effect Radar Meteorologists” can’t predict it. They say it will snow, we’ll get a flake. Half of the city shuts down when it does flurry. I’ve driven in the torrential downpours (or “gullywashers” as my Texas-native mother calls them) and I’ve driven in heavy snowfall. And it’s so hot and humid in the summer that we even have air-conditioning (Which actually I don’t like — I love soaking in humidity. I’m serious).

In the past two months, when I’ve made my Sunday phone calls back east, Dad always asks, so what’s the weather like out there and then proceeds to tell me what he read in the paper about Seattle’s forecast. I always tell him — “Jeans and a fleece. It’s not too bad —maybe chilly.”

He always responds with something different about Cincy. Last Sunday, it was 74 degrees with thunderstorms. At one point last month, it was 30 degrees at mid-day.

This Pacific Northwest rain and gray is gonna be like this until March, everyone taunts me, with the occasional sunbreak. Ha! I say. No problem. I dealt with Cincy and Athens with its gray and rain — this will be cake. And, yes, I can hear the scoffing across North Kitsap — “You don’t know what you’re in for, Ms. Royal.” And I’m sure I don’t.

But I AM preparing properly. While my mother sent my scarves, mittens and wool hat (it’s neon orange and fluorescent pink, with a little ball on top — you’ll see me coming a mile away this winter) and my insulated parka, my expert-on-the-outdoors editor said, no, no, no, that’ll be too hot. So I took his advice and purchased my “Northwest winter coat” — a windproof, waterproof and breathable rain jacket, to wear on top of my much loved sweaters and fleeces. Layer, everyone says, always layer. But I’ll still sport the hat.

Now, see — at this writing, the sun the just came out after it was raining and blowing like crazy. How much different can the Buckeye State be vs. the Evergreen State?

So Mother Nature of the West Coast — I challenge you this winter to show me how bad these “west coast winters” can be. I’ll be sitting on my balcony, overlooking Liberty Bay with my hot apple cider with cinnamon sticks and warm homemade pecan pie, waiting for your arrival.