We moved to Monterey eight years ago. Monterey, where "hot" is anything over 70 degrees. I scoffed at this when we first arrived. I carried a sweater with me in the summer. You know, because to SoCal peeps, anything below 70 degrees is Uggs weather.

We are in for a heat-wave this week. The weatherman is sending out those old people and dogs warning because it is going to get up to 75 degrees by the beach. Prayer chains are being sent out for those who suffer from heat exhaustion. Cooling stations are being set up for the homeless. The vendors are stocking up on the hats and sunscreen and those fancy little hand-held fans that spray water. Anything to keep us cool.
Remember when 102 was hot? I find myself scouring my closet for the natural fibers and loose clothes. I am foregoing my embarrassment over flabby arms and pulling out the sleeveless tops. Hey, I might be able to actually create a breeze if I flap my elbows a bit. I'm ready. Bring on the heat.
Have you seen my big floppy hat? I'm going to need it.
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