Category: summer
Dear Mother Nature,
As you know, over the years you and I have enjoyed an especially close relationship. You bring me the sun and the ocean and endless blue skies. You are in charge of all that is outdoors that I love and enjoy.
And you do a fine job of it, don’t get me wrong.
Being a woman as you are, we all know that we ladies can be prone to *moods*, and that is to be expected. Fickle moods. Cranky moods. Just…moods.
Over the years I’ve forgiven a lot of your more extreme bouts of moodiness.
Remember the time I had to dive into a wet alfalfa field because you struck the telephone pole I was walking past with a big blast of lightening?
Yeah. I forgave.
Remember I cried my eyes out in the winter of 1997 (that so called El Niño winter) because I thought it would never stop raining?
Remember that time I drove to Silver City, New Mexico on the hottest day of the year? My car was overheating, so I had to turn on the heater to help keep it cool enough to finish the trip, and when I arrived, I realized I’d sweated through all of my clothing?
That wasn’t fun.
But I’ve been able to let by gones be by gones.
You are entitled to be a little whimsical now and again. Heck, enjoy yourself!
But this year…well, I think it’s time we have a serious talk.
You *might* need to seek professional help for this schizophrenic behavior you are exhibiting.
It’s sunny, it’s rainy, it’s too hot, then it’s too cold.
You can’t seem to make up your mind, alternating between sunny and rainy on a given day!
Ma’am, today is the frapping twenty seventh day of May.
May. You remember? Spring?
When the birds sing and the sun shines and a (straight) young man’s fancy turns towards young ladies in short skirts?
No one wears short skirts in the drenching rain!
Um. Look. I just did my toes and they are a fabulous shade of melon pink. I want to show them off.
When it’s fiercely raining and yes, HAILING outside, I can’t show of my fabulously painted toes because they are covered by my wellies.
Ok, look. I understand that living in Northern California means ya gotta accept the rain. I get that. But c’mon! Can’t you give a desert born and raised girl a break?
And let’s talk about my friends in places like Utah and Colorado who are getting SNOW?
Look sister, you need to get a hold of yourself!
Might I remind you that this weekend is Memorial Day? Hot dogs and cookouts and the beginning of summer fun?
So why *exactly* is there rain and snow in the forecast?
You know, they make meds that can help this condition.
Why don’t I make you an appointment? Maybe some talk therapy will help you work out your issues.
I’m here to support you. Just so you know…I’m a much more supportive friend in the sunshine.
I’m just saying.
(bonus points if you remember the tagline from this commercial)
Clampetts come to town
So there I am today, at the Target store. They got in a fresh load of summer wear, so I tried a few on and made fun selections.
I’d picked out a pretty cute loose flowing skirt and had it in the basket, ready to buy. But then I wandered through more of the ladies clothing section and found another skirt almost exactly like it, but a bit different.
I thought I might like this newly found skirt better.
So did I go back to the dressing room and try it on?
Nope.
Did I toss it in the basket thinking I’d try it on later at home, and bring it back if it didn’t fit?
Nope.
I yanked the skirt off the hanger and pulled it on and up over my jeans.
It had an elastic waist….(as if that’s any defense).
Hey, you know what, it fit fine and so I bought it.
A few minutes later, The Good Man came over to the ladies section with a pile of clothes he’d found over in menswear.
“Hey, what do you think of this shirt?” he asked, holding it up.
“I like it,” I replied. And I did.
“I wonder about the fit, though,” he said.
So he whipped off his button down shirt (he had on an undershirt) and put on the store shirt.
“Yep, fits fine,” he said, then took it off, and dropped it in the basket.
And then, I laughed.
This is what we’ve become.
The Clampetts. None of the class, all of the charm.
I remember as kid out shopping with mom, and she’d do the, “here, just try this sweater on over your tshirt.”
“But moooohhhhhhhoooom!” I’d howl! It was *so* embarrassing.
Now I’m that lady, trying on stuff in the aisles. And I don’t even care.
You know…Mark Chesnutt has this song about when “ol’ country” comes to town.
That’s my excuse. I just don’t know any better.
I have no idea what excuse the city-born Good Man’s is using.
Maybe I’m setting a bad example?
“Whooooa, let me tell ya story about a man named Jed…..”
It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Evaporation!
Everywhere you turn….
Ok, I suppose some things are hard coded into my system. Cellular level and all.
Today promises to be a very warm day where I live. I woke up this morning and it was already getting hot, and so my mind thought, “hmm, wonder if it is too early to think about getting the swamp cooler set up.”
And then I remembered…I don’t live in the desert anymore.
Oh and by the way, evaporative cooling doesn’t work worth a damn where it’s humid.
Oh yeah. Whoops.
This all reminded me of when I looked for my first apartment in Northern California.
In Albuquerque I’d lived in a very large one-bedroom apartment up on the east end of Menaul. I was on the fourth floor and had a rocking view of the Sandias. Many of my utilities were taken care of, and I paid $550.
I was now looking at spending $1200 a month on a teeny tiny dark apartment in a crap neighborhood. And pay for it out of a salary that was only $5k more than I was making in Albuquerque.
Yeah. That was bad. But what I remember most was touring a pretty nice place that was in my price range (less than $1000 a month). It was clean, smallish, but suitable. It was a warm day down in the South Bay, and I inquired, “where is the air conditioner?”
The landlord responded that there wasn’t one.
NO AIR CONDITIONER!?!?! WHAT!?!?!?
I mean, to a girl from New Mexico, this is certain death! You don’t NOT have an air conditioner!!!
The landlord further explained that really, it’s not necessary. The really hot days are few and the wind off the Bay and the ocean keeps it cool.
I was skeptical.
Thirteen years later, I’ve still never lived in a place that had an air conditioner. Admittedly, there have been some still, hot days where I yearned for the simple beauty of a swamp cooler. On those days, I stay longer at work to soak up their climate control.
So while my home is a/c free, my car does have cooling. I won’t own a car that doesn’t, though I have friends who saved a few bucks by leaving that off. No way.
I have a vague feeling this is going to be a long, hot summer in the Bay Area where the tunnel of fans The Good Man sets up won’t quite be enough.
But then, when it gets that hot, the next day the fog rolls in over the hills and dampens the whole day and you freeze your tukhus off.
Ah…summer in the Bay Area. Swamp Coolers not required.
I’m just an ol’ fashioned girl
Sort of, anyway.
I mean, over the weekend, in fact, last night, I had occasion to make dinner for my husband. I admit, there is something so *deeply* satisfying to cook for my man, and even more so when he took a first bite and made a yummy noise. Gets right to the heart of me!
Ok, so here’s another way I may be a bit stodgy. Ladies, listen in here… The weekend just past was Labor Day.
And we all know what that means, right?
Of course, no wearing white after Labor Day. We can wear it again come Easter.
There, I said it. I know, I know, that rule is out of date and there is such a thing as “winter white” and so on.
To me, this rule really applies to two items of clothing…pants and shoes.
A nice crisp white blouse with darker pants is fine.
But pair that with white shoes? *gasp*
My mother, who was, in her day, quite fashionable (don’t scoff dear mum, I have the photos to prove it!), taught me the no white after Labor Day rule.
But then she also gave me the handy carve out that, since we lived in New Mexico and the weather stayed warmer in New Mexico than, say, eastern climates, wearing white a little bit longer was acceptable.
But no, I took the rule entirely to heart. Nope, nada, ain’t gonna do it! Back in my college days living in the sorority house, I was one of *those* girls who would point and gasp in horror when one of my sisters dared to sport a pair of white heels in the month of September.
Really rude, I know.
Then again…who wears white heels? Seriously.
I seem to have zero trouble following my own rule because…I don’t own a pair of white pants. Really, there are only a very select group of women in this world who should be allowed to wear white pants. The rest of us can sit out this fashion, trust me.
And I’m pretty sure I don’t own any white shoes either, if you don’t count athletic shoes, which I don’t. (and mine aren’t white anyway)
Pretty much, in my middle years, I’m less and less inclined to get uptight about this rule.
And what kicked off this whole train of thought was an article in Time discussing the origin of the rule. Turns out the history is a bit fuzzy.
Ah well.
Really, in fashion, to each their own, right?
(I’m looking at you, Lady Gaga)
