I know Kuhl loves and dearly misses SF. I know she thinks the weather wouldn't bother her, but she has forgotten! Why? Because she lives in Santa Cruz. Santa Cruz, people. Surf City. Warm and sunny. Beaches you can actually swim and frolic in with little fear of frostbite. The weather is great, and don't let any of those old hippies who hate the tourists tell you any different.
Me, on the other hand, I am very clear where I stand: I hate San Francisco weather. HATE IT. I took DC (darling child) to soccer practice on Tuesday and froze my huevos rancheros right off. The wind was whipping, the fog was cresting the hill and swirling like the smoke from some evil witch's pot (honestly, when looking for fog metaphors, and lord knows there are an abundance, I try to stay away from all the "kitten's feet" and "cotton balls" kind of romantic version of a very unpleasant phenomenon for those who must endure it for months at a time). While the entire rest of the Western hemisphere is gaily gearing up for springtime -- think happy Easter colors, daffodils, sweet little dresses with just a light sweater and sandals -- I was wearing a blanket, and a wool hat, Ugg boots and a winter coat. Even with all those layers, I was still shivering and quivering like a Jell-O mold. Indeed, not to put to fine a point on it but, I HATE IT. I often wear a hat and gloves indoors. My heater is on high as I write this. Did I mention today is May, not Feburary first? My world is gray.
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1 comment:
Think of the positive-you can get a contact high from the wind blowing through those medical marijuana shops
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