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How Hot Is It?


My oh my oh my, it’s hot, hot, hot here. And it’s not even August yet.
No, no, don’t click on by. Weather is not a trival subject. Talking about the weather gets a bad rap. It’s trivial, it’s trite, it’s the last refuge of the boring.
But look at it another way – weather is nature. If it weren’t so hot, I’m sure I could come up with some kind of new-agey shtick about nature, and the healthy inner you, and reconnecting to the outer world. Maybe even get a book contract for it. Because having some connection to nature is good, and many of us car-driving, computer-working, gym-exercising, indoor-staying, suburban-lifestyle-living humans are missing out on it.
Being one of those types more or less in some of my young adult years, I never thought about the weather. Until I reconnected with it during one brief and shining moment when I became a regular jogger before the birth of son the elder. And then babies and kids do like to go outside, so I’ve been vaguely paying attention to the weather ever since.
When I lived in San Diego, of course we never had weather. Some people living there will complain about periods of gray skies, but that just demonstrates humans’ ability to adapt to any situation and triumph over it – by finding something to complain about. Because what is life without complaining?
Not that we have to worry about umbrellas too much here in Valencia, although we did have to wear coats in the winter (horrors!). (And apparently there might be a rainy season coming up.) But have I mentioned it’s hot?
How hot is it? Check here if you like, but I’m pretty sure they’re underreporting by 20 degrees or so. It’s so hot, that when I sit around the house…er, no, that’s not it.
OK, here’s a joke, probably another old one: A couple is sitting down together in their living room. The (choose your spouse, we’ll say wife) wife lets out an “oy.” (You kind of make an oycchh noise when you tell it.) The husband says, “What’s the matter?”
“Oy,” she says, “how thirsty I am.” So the husband gets the wife a glass of water, which she drinks up. And they’re sitting there another minute when again she says, “Oy.” And the husband says, “So what’s the matter now?” And she says, “Oy, I was just thinking about how thirsty I was.”
That’s pretty much how I feel about this heat. Even when you get cool, the heat’s just waiting for the chance to pounce again. (And yes, air conditioning exists here too but is less common than in the States.)
I never complained about the gray skies in San Diego, because I used to live in Vienna. There the sky turns gray and sinks down in low over the city sometime in October, and the sun isn’t seen again until maybe briefly in March, if you’re lucky. Absolutely the only way the Viennese manage to make it through the winter is thanks to their superb mastery of carbohydrate production in the form of bread and cake.
Spaniards make it through the summer thanks to gazpacho and icy drinks.
So weather’s brought us to food. Any thoughts of natural disasters aside, weather is definitely not trivial.

Share  Posted by Deborah Klosky at 11:04 PM | Permalink

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