I was going to include some badass shot of the fog rolling in over North Beach, but I didn’t have one and I am way too comfy all bundled up at home, so this twilight shot of the church on Washington Square is just going to have to do.
My good friend Laura gives me a hard time about how often I mention I’m from Canada, and I have to admit it is a habit I’ve been trying consciously to combat – my effort of which you, oh fabulously loyal reader, are probably doubtful. I’ll probably go into my issues with Canadian identity in a later post, but suffice to say contains some inferiority complex, a cup of self-deprecating humor, and a dash of northern narcissism.
ANYHOO, the reason I mention this is as follows: tonight a)I’m so thankful to live in San Francisco and b) I’m even MORE thankful that I am Canadian. What, you ever-so-discerning reader may ask, links San Francisco to Canada in my mind? Well, other than nice people and government sponsored health care, I’ll tell you what…
… I LIKE THE COLD.
There. I said it. Big secret’s out. I like it better when it’s cold. Hell, I wrote about the weather in SF less than a month ago, but the current heat wave across the US and comments on a Gawker post reminded me again. Instead of 110 degree heat, 500% humidity, 1000 fold increase in swamp-butt in NYC, I would much rather endure the fog rolling in across Russian Hill, delightfully chilling my apartment to a perfect sleeping temperature. Yea, sure, we just finished up months of gray hell (of which you can read of, oh illustrious reader, above) and most folks in SF would sell their left kidney for a modicum of a “real summer”, but I still thank my lucky stars that I don’t need an industrial air conditioner just to fall asleep at night.
Besides, I look kinda cute in sweaters and not-so-cute in sweat. It’s the Canadian in me.