Some like it hot

A view of Mission Peak from Lake Elizabeth

Growing up in Southern California, I don't remember owning a coat. In the winter, I was not alone when I wore shorts to school. Except for smog alerts, I was blissfully unaware of the weather for almost two decades. Then, for a brief college stint, I lived in Utah. That's where I learned to wear boots and curse the winter snow. It’s also where I wondered how people kept on living normal lives in the stifling summer heat.

But the worst weather I experienced was in Paraguay There, having a conversation without mentioning the weather was nearly impossible. Tropical vacations began to lose their appeal when I learned firsthand tropical weather meant the air was humid and sticky, or, as they say in Spanish, “pesado” (literally meaning “heavy”). 

I spent a year and a half in South America as an LDS missionary trying unsuccessfully to not think about the weather. During my two Paraguayan summers, sweat dripped incessantly from my face and armpits—very unfeminine and very distracting.

Fortunately, though, I now live in paradise and have for 23 years. The weather in the Bay Area is pretty close to perfect. We have just enough hot and cold to claim the four seasons. When it gets too hot, the natural air conditioning system from the Bay rolls in to cool us off after about three days. It’s heavenly. Coats? Yes, the fashionable, cute ones that hang in our closets most of the year. Shorts? Yes, from about April to September. Some like it hot; I like it perfect.