Cooling off

Finally we can get back to boasting about the absolutely gorgeous weather in San Diego.

Last week was infernal. Even the water from the spigot came out hot. Our ankles and other weird body parts wouldn't stop sweating. There was no relief. Misting yourself only made the heat muggier. There was nothing you could do. Over the airwaves came urgent announcements calling for people to conserve energy, that a black-out was imminent if everyone didn't cut down their A/C. Now there was something we could be smug about: since we don't have A/C, we don't have to feel guilty about it.

Yesterday, the heat wave finally broke and the night cooled off in that familiar way. For the first time in days, I could sleep with the covers on. The evening air spilling in from the window above my computer has a crisp edge to it. Mishka is warming my feet.

Heaven, again.

Labor Day BBQ on PB

Beach barbecue, anyone? Ahhhh, life is sweet!

On Labor Day, we met some friends from my residency (Jess and Matt) at Pacific Beach for a barbecue. Geoff carted our trusty $15 grill to use it finally for what it was intended (as opposed to serving as a ghetto kitchen on our condemned back deck).

So we were going to go to a beach in La Jolla called Windansea, but, instead, we ended up at PB because that's where Jess lives. Allow me to "explain" PB to you: Beverly Hills 90210.

OK, there.

PB is San Diego's beach town, kind of like Myrtle Beach for those of you from NC (but with more surfboards and far fewer mullets). There's a permanent theme park with a rickety old roller coaster and bags of cotton candy, almost everyone is blond and tan, the mean age is 22, and the dress code is bikini or surf shorts.

Since alcohol is permitted on the beach, and this crowd just loves the beercahol, you can imagine what interesting cocktails ensue. Perhaps you heard the news of the riots that broke out in PB earlier in the day before we arrived.

OK, now insert us.

As you can see from the photo, only Jess blended in with the local folk (and only because she had decided, at dusk, to go for a dip). The mean age of our group was 34. And, oh yeah, instead of Budweiser, we were drinking a fine Argentinian Malbec and grilling marinated carne asada for fajitas with homemade pico de gallo, guacamole, red peppers and vidalia onions.

The drunk, golden kids actually came sniffing around, wondering what smelled so good. Two surfers tried to bum beer off of us.

Luckily, no one puked on us or tried to start a fight. Besides some beach wrestling, which was held at a comfortable distance, they didn't bother us much, which was good, because it was a spectacular sunset and an unbelievable dinner. We stayed until the sun had melted completely away and all the kiddies had gone home.

Sweltering heat

Most will agree that San Diego has the best weather in the country. What they don't tell you is that, some time around the end of August, both the temperature and the humidity creep up. The evenings don't cool off as dramatically as before, and the lack of air conditioning becomes all too obvious. Your appetite diminishes, you stay parched, and you drape yourself across the sofa in your underwear as the tiny fan blows hot air in your face.

What makes this worse is this renovation we're going through. All day long the doors and windows are kept wide open for the workers to move in and out, letting in the heat and mugginess but doing little to clear out the dust from the construction. Without a kitchen, it is hard to locate a clean cup for water, and, anyway, we're filling the Brita pitcher in the bathroom. Even with the filter, the water tastes weird. Still, it is better than heat stroke, so I've taken to leaving a bowl in the fridge for when I get thirsty. I would have left a cup, but I didn't feel like washing dishes in the bathtub.

Saturday was particularly oppressive. The cabinet guys were here installing cabinets. Before they arrived, I was cramming to get the kitchen primed and painted, including the ceiling, because I didn't want to worry about painting around these brand new cabinets. It was so hot, I hardly ate anything. Geoff had to go to work to finish some charts before he leaves for LA for a week-long Boards Review Course. By 3 PM, I was spent. I grabbed a beach chair, my beach basket and Mishka (who was also spent), and we headed for the Coronado Dog Beach. Living near the coast is a luxury. You can decide on a whim to head for the beach in the late afternoon, a really lovely time to go. The waves were huge, crashing sometimes with sprays that would reach the horizon. Amazingly, though, it was calm enough near the shore to go wading, and Mishka and I enjoyed a few dips into the water, which felt much fresher and cooler than usual. The water also had a stronger ocean smell and there was no seaweed around. It was like a different beach. We found a tennis ball, and Mishka never got tired of chasing it in the waves or running up the beach after it. Usually she gets bored when we play fetch, but she was exuberant yesterday. Later on in the day, I got caught up chatting with another dog owner on the beach, and I spied Mishka running back to the water on her own to play in the surf with another black dog with a tennis ball. She ventured into the shallow water on her own!