zoubida: veronica at 'puter
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Weather breaking; drifting from SGA
Living in San Francisco has many advantages (one of them: fabulous burritos) and one of the best ones has to be the fog. Oh, how I have missed you, you great gray beast on little cat's feet. The heat wave never got too bad here; it topped off around 90-ish degrees, and even with the heat, it was never truly unbearable because of the breezes coming off the ocean. But still, native-born and -bred San Franciscans recoil from actual hot weather; when it hits the eighties, everybody goes about in tank tops and pale arms, complaining about the heat. We're not built for this!

When I was in high school, I read an essay by E.B. White lamenting the advent of air conditioning in New York, how it robbed the summer days and nights of their tropical flavor, when the whole city was transformed into a simmery, heated urban jungle. In my naivete, I thought his sentiments romantic and sweetly nostalgic because I had never experienced searing summer heat. I sincerely thought that propping open a window on the side of the house not facing the sun and staying in the shade adequate for anything summer could throw at one; it wasn't until I lived outside of S.F. that I really understood the pernicious effects of heat. I want to go back and kick my own stupid backside. I also never ever want to live any place that isn't right by the ocean (or without great burritos).

But yay! the fog is back, and beautiful and it even began drizzling a little tonight as I was driving home after midnight. Tonight was also the third time since the SGA premiere that I've gone out on Friday nights, and the third time I haven't bothered to set the VCR. Or download the ep. I'm drifting from the show something fierce, and I don't care. Instead, I got home by 2am, ate a very late supper and watched Midnight, an extremely charming 1939 romantic comedy (in the French farce/Continental style) starring Claudette Colbert and co-written by Billy Wilder. It's not out on DVD, but should be; it's sparkling and funny and surprisingly sexy.

I grew up in a mining town in the desert, OK scrubland/desert. In summer it was hot.

And when I say hot, I mean hot, in the complete entire sense of the word, not humid, dry thick heat.

And we didn't have air conditioning except in one bedroom, and that was for Dad to sleep for shift work. So I got used to it.

Now I live further South, on the coast and in Summer it's hot, but it's a humid hot, and in winter it's cold, and I wasn't brought up to handle the cold, and at least in England they had internal heating, and they have that here.

Cold makes me miserable.

and they have that here.

They don't have that here.

I never lived where it got cold! cold in the winter, thank goodness, but I got used to cold-ish winters pretty early. Pile on the clothes, wear gloves for everything and weirdly, I felt cozy and nice when I bundled up. But the heat.... it's utterly inescapable -- I would go down and swim in the tiny apt complex and just float there to try and bleed the heat away, even though chlorine did horrors to my hair. I think it's because I'm so unused to the heat that I felt so horrible: couldn't eat, sleep or feel at peace. I've talked to transplants who've moved here from hotter climes, and they lose the ability to bear high temps after a while, because S.F. is pretty much always breezy, cool and foggy.


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