Sucker Weather

This past weekend we had the kind of weather that makes most regular people think about summer. It got up to 86 degrees in our little neighborhood in San Francisco, and Dolores Park was so packed, you could barely see the grass. Erika wore sundresses and flip flops that were purchased for warmer climes and Martin bought a BBQ. I had to search out a cool spot in the house - the entry way stairs instead of one of my normal sunny nooks.

But the Real San Franciscans knew what this weather was all about. It was Sucker Weather. And not as in lollipops. This was the kind of weather that every once in a while makes a brief appearance, just to prove that The City is capable of it. But we know better. While the tourists and the new SF residents think that this is a preview of summer, we don't get suckered in to believing. Overheard conversations at the unseasonably warm Farmer's Market (strawberries! snap peas! BASIL even!) all went like this: "Beautiful weather, isn't it? Yeah, too bad it won't last." "Isn't this weather great? Yeah, unbelievable. It's supposed to be freezing again on Monday."

For those of you who have never spent a summer in San Francisco, it is very, very hard to believe that this beautiful city gets so brutally cold for most of June, July, and August. I'm talking 43 degrees Fahrenheit. While everyone in every other part of the Northern Hemisphere (and most of the Bay Area) is sipping lemonade in shorts or wiping the sweat from their brows as they admire their giant home-grown tomatoes, San Franciscans are huddled over the BBQ in wool sweaters, or chuckling at the tourists who are easily identified by their shocked looks and "I heart San Francico" fleece sweatshirts that they hastily purchased at Fisherman's Wharf upon their first trip outside their hotel rooms. But it was awfully nice while it lasted. And it was only a little depressing to watch the fog roll in on Sunday evening as Martin BBQed an amazing assortment of Ahi tuna, sausage, and chicken.

In other news, the power company is digging up our street and the street above ours, which means the parking situation is even more dire than usual. And, worst of all the background noise for Erika's first relaxing day of maternity leave was jackhammers and saws so big and powerful that they can cut concrete. Not pleasant. It is supposed to last for a month, but Martin found this sign at the top of our street. It does not bode well. At least they finish by 3pm or so each day, so Erika and I have the late afternoon to sip Kombucha (probiotics!), attempt to make sourdough starter from scratch, nap, and update the blog in peace...