Howdy, everybody. First off, let me just say how touched I was by all the comments on Monday. (Desperately resisting urge to use humor to fend off emotional honesty/awkwardness.) I’ve been feeling like I have been letting you down in some way I am not articulating well. When I told all this to Anita, and expressed my surprise at everyone’s kindness, her response was something along the lines of: whatthehelliswrongwithyouanywayareyouserious?
So. The message has been received, the guilt stuffed in a baggie and tossed in the trash, and … here I am. I will definitely dig through Ye Olde Archives (have I mentioned how terrible our search function is?) and select some Best Of links, including some of those already mentioned. I need to go look at them because, due to our blog movage, some of the older posts have weird typos and missing images, so they need to be tidied up. If you have other favorite posts, please say so in comments and I’ll look for them. I also noted everyone else’s suggestions for post topics, and thanks for all the love and rockets. I read them all, and I think I answered all the questions.
I’m still on my Scandinavian Thriller bender, and right now we’re in Iceland. I am enjoying this book very much but am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I have trouble keeping the patronymic names straight, as everyone in Iceland according to my reading is either named Bjorn Olafsson or Olaf Bjornsson (men); or, Thora or Kristin Olafsdottir for the women. Insert some random accents and circle-things over those letters, btw. So I keep having to flip back 15 pages, thinking, wait … is this the dad or the uncle we’re talking about here? We need to send our friends in Iceland some new names. I’m thinking Mitsouko, Serge and Kilian.
I could never live in Iceland, and not just because of all the murder victims piled up like cordwood on creepy, lonely beaches and in all the heroin dens of Reykjavik (yes, I had to look up how to spell that.) If I wanted my kids to be smack addicts, I’d have stayed in New Mexico … or, wait, it turns out there’s a lot of heroin in this area, so let’s scuttle along, shall we? Iceland, Greenland, Finland, Norway, Alaska, anywhere in the northern latitudes with long, dark winters? I.would.die. I have now read thrillers by two different authors saying that the typical Icelandic murder involves two drunks and a kitchen knife, and I can believe it. I’d last three months in a northern climate, assuming those months were August, September and October. Okay, maybe I could suck it up until Christmas. After that, it’s all The Shining. You know, just like it was around here in February.
I prefer a more temperate climate – something with four seasons, “summer” not being the length between appointments to have my hair cut. (This eliminates Maine, for instance.) Something like …. Washington, D.C. You see, I grew up here. In a tiny brick Cape Cod. With no air conditioning. When it got hot, we all slept on Army cots on the screened side porch. To this day, the sound of crickets and an attic fan puts me to sleep instantly. I go out and sleep on the wicker sofa on our screened back porch on sultry nights just for the pleasure of it.
Take today, for instance. At 4 p.m. it was a lovely 95 degrees with a 6mph breeze, and I was happy. That breeze makes all the difference. It’s true what they say about the humidity and the still air … my hot yoga I did this morning was not really hot yoga like Bikram, which they keep set at “Dubai” (let’s call it 110F-ish.) No, it’s merely warm yoga, somewhere in the upper 80s. It’s perfect. It doesn’t aggravate my rosacea, and I can stretch (to the degree that I can stretch) and be happy. I’d keep my house somewhere around 85F all the time in the summer, if the other people living here wouldn’t beat me to death with their icepacks.
I have the vague impression that some people (perhaps 85% of the folks who live here) don’t share my enthusiasm for our summer. My apologies to those of you who formed beads of sweat which dripped on your keyboards and felt nauseated just thinking about hot yoga in this weather. Perhaps you like it cold. On the other hand, maybe some of you are fundamentally indifferent to the weather – no bad weather, only bad clothing etc. So I’m throwing it out to you, because it is August after all: any of you who’ve lived in “extreme” climates, hot or cold, extended light/darkness/cloudiness, have opinions about how you cope? How much does where you grew up form your impressions? (Can you move from the St. Kitts to Anchorage and retain your sanity?) Who else is having wacky weather? We had reports of coldness in Belgium… San Francisco is miserably cold, yes? I’m pretty sure our summer here is going to be hottest on record.
PS. In terms of actual perfume: Denyse really has me wanting to try Boxeuses. Also, Louise reports in from the field (actually, Saks in Chevy Chase) that “the Guerlain cosmetics counter had a new collection of various perfumes-including testers of Sous le Vent, Liu, the Elixirs, Angelique Noir, Spiritueuse, and others. The SA said she thought they might only be there for a short while…” Hm. Louise, what is that strange feeling you’ve stirred in me? Suddenly I have a desire to hop in the car.