Summertime?

"The coldest Winter I ever spent was a Summer in San Francisco."

That fine quote is attributed to Mark Twain. It may have well been the words of a laughingly omniscient G-O-D because the poignancy/venom of that statement is the unique essence of truth.

This is my first proper Summer in SF as I arrived on September 1st, 2007 (that's right, I'm coming up on my anniversary--no longer a newbie) and I've deduced that it's fucking cold here all year except for September and October. What a coincidence that my first two months here were not only blissful in my inheritance of a new city and all it's playfulness but also the two least suspect months. SF has a climate to make Juneau, Alaska say, "Haha you rich people put up with that shit?!"

Yes, Juneau, unfortunately we do. Wind from the East, Wind from the West, Wind from above, Wind from below. To leave your house in SF without a jacket is not only a sin but also a Deathwish. No need to see Charles Bronson, just go for an hour walk in Havanas sandals without a hoodie and see how your disposition changes throughout that jaunt. I guarantee the words, "Fuck!" and "Damn!" will leave your lips at some point during that period.

The only good thing about this glacial climate is that I get to laugh at clueless tourists who actually do leave their hotels with only a map, sunglasses, bus fare and flip-flops.

The look on their faces when the fog starts to roll in: Priceless. There's nothing like walking by a Touristsicle: freezing cold and clueless, "Is this our stop? I'm cold." Ahh, warms my belly.

So while I endure this test called July, I'm counting down the days till I return to RVA for a visit. 5 whole days in the sun and humidity. I never thought I'd miss the humidity of Richmond but these days it's all I long for. Here's to you East Coast, I'll never doubt your warmth again. Amen.