What do you say when it's a sunny 85 degrees in a city that usually hovers at 65 this time of year, and it's your day off?
I, for one, say thank you.
We are in the grips of a heat wave in the Bay Area, and it is truly blissful. If you don't live here, please let me explain that in San Francisco the mercury generally peaks between 60 and 67 degrees all year. That's great in the winter when much of the country is buried in snow, but wearing a jacket all summer is kind of a drag. But sometimes it gets a little colder in the winter, and sometimes we get the benefit of a really warm summer or early fall day.
So today, on the longest day of the year and one of the few when San Francisco will actually be hot, I spent as much time as possible outside. I took my run and then met Gretchen at one of Mario's outdoor tables for lunch. We snacked and chatted while watching other sun worshippers in Washington Square Park. Then we ran into a bunch of people we know, including Clea, who is two and half years old and very charming, and Sebastian, who treated us to gelato. Yummy. After a few late afternoon errands, I considered going with my friend Greg and a few of his buddies to witness the end of the solstice daylight at the beach, but instead I opted to meet Jack at the Ferry Building. He and I drank wine outdoors and watched the 8:35 p.m. sunset from the City's opposite waterfront.
It's supposed to be even warmer tomorrow, and I have a big day ahead of me. The gym, an appointment, shopping and a pot luck where we will eat on Denise's roof and indulge in the hot tub afterward. Yeah, yeah, then it's back to work on Friday, but who can be bothered to think about that now?
I know the song is actually about hormones, but nonetheless, Martha Reeves knew her stuff when she quavered about the glory of a heat wave.