We got pounded last night here in Malibu. After a day of gray skies and gentle drizzle, three hours of precision rain. A conga line of clouds rode in from the Pacific, slid down the mountainside and cut loose. Sheets of rain slammed down on rooftops, slapped hard at windows, turned driveways into moats, turned our bare and crispy hillsides into lethal weapons.

So far, so good. News trucks parked everywhere but no disasters to report. Another storm's on its way, though, and there's plenty of reason to worry. It feels saturated here, as though one more drop of moisture might be too much. So we wait and see, we hunker down, we drive carefully, politely, and send up a prayer that all our neighbors stay safe.

Below is the beach this morning, big disorganized waves, a steep ledge where the tide chewed away a layer of sand. And here's the channel cut by the creek that runs to the sea. For perspective, check out the white plastic patio chair that washed ashore.