Friday, June 06, 2008

 

It's Here

On the first warm day of April, my husband went through his closet and chest of drawers, swapping out winter gear with shorts and short-sleeve T-shirts. A few days later, he momentarily regretted his haste, but optimist that he is, blithely went on willing the warm weather to reappear. He also brought up all my summer gear from storage. Of course this was very kind of him, but I haven't swapped out a thing, and my two tubs of summer clothing have been sitting in front of my dresser for two months.

This happens every year.

I hate summer. Let me rephrase that. I hate summer in New York. I loathe it, I abhor it, I fear it. I drag my heels every year, wanting to hang onto my long skirts and boots and light sweaters. If I lived in California, I could wear these cuddly, expressive clothes all year round. Not so in New York. Here, I worry every time there is a heat wave lest the electricity go out and I am forced to climb the roof to sleep in a semi-tolerable temperature. (This is what happened to me during that last black out. As it was, I had heat stroke and it took a week for the migraine and fatique to go away. I get heat stroke practically every year).

This weekend will see the temperature shoot up to the 90s and I will be home, hiding out in my dark, cold cave, wondering if the temperature is safe enough for me to exercise (Hello weight gain! It's great to see you! No, really). I will also, finally, have to give up my winter clothes for the things I've amassed to wear in the heat. Goodbye to my jeans and comfortable long sleeve shirts. Hello to flimsy, unflattering t-shirts and the two pairs of shorts I'm willing to wear. White people are supposed to like warm weather gear; I fail this challenge. Goodbye to a glamorous matte face, and hello to a perpetually amphibious state in which my hair remains permanently scrunched on my head, and my skin is lacquered with sweat and grime.

Is there an upside to summer? Yes, the days are longer and I like the extra light (although, how exactly is one supposed to use it?) The markets are full of a variety of vegetables and fruit. Um. I'll keep thinking.

Now we will go to what New Yorkers consider a beach, which is generally an overcrowded expanse of white sand where lifeguards relentlessly blow on their whistles and airplanes fly overhead in search of JFK.

This whining, bad attitude and childishness will be my last word on the subject. But mark my words; I will be wishing I were home.

Below is what I consider to be a beach.


Comments:
okay, so where is this beach? I want to go there right now.
 
Ha! Well, it's kind of a local secret, but I'll tell you, anonymous person. It's called China Cove, and you'll find it in Point Lobos. Best to go on a beautiful, non-foggy day, like today when it was 80 degrees, with almost on humidity. In fact, I'm wondering why it hasn't occurred to me to go until I read your comment. Thanks for the nudge.
 
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