California. Freezing.

Last Thursday

Ah, my annual trip to California, to visit my brother Andrew, who will have probably thought up devious new plots in his attempt to kill me. I'm not sure exactly why this is a goal of his, but last year his scheme revolved around giving me directions to places that didn't exist or that veered off a steep cliff. I wonder what he'll try this time, realizing that I'm savvy to his ways now.


During my layover in Denver, I contemplate taking advantage of the fact that calories ingested in transit don't count. Not too many people know about this little axiom, but if you think about it, it makes perfect sense: your body requires so much effort to adapt to the change in climate, altitude, atmosphere, etc., that right there you're burning off more calories than you could possibly ingest. However, I like to test my iron will by sticking to a liquid diet when traveling, just because I know I can. Not many people are capable of this kind of discipline. Thus equipped with my double-hot-fudge sundae, I saunter off to my gate where I gaze at my fellow travellers, with burgers and sandwiches clutched in their hands. I shake my head.

Finally, I arrive in California, where it's sunny and gorgeous. Ahhhh. I've been tracking the weather for the last few weeks, and it's been consistently in the 70s, even in the 80s a few times. More of the same is predicted, so I've packed all sorts of warm weather clothing. Suntan, here I come!

The only annoyance in what is sure to be a perfect week to come is when I go to get my rental car. The "5-passenger compact car" they give me is....the General Lee. A Ford Mustang? I didn't think they even made these anymore. Probably has the fuel efficiency of the Tinman. Great. Oh well, I'm sure that'll be the only wrinkle in the sunny days ahead.

Friday

Brrr......it's a bit chilly when I wake up, and overcast. I'm sure it won't rain though - it never rains at this time of year.

(later)

It starts raining.

I go for a run, but wisely have decided to not ask my brother for directions. I somehow wind up at a hill that is mountain-goat worthy, and of course decide to go up it, positive that the elusive "national forest" that's somewhere around here must be over the crest. It's not. Damn nature - why is it never around when you need it? On the way back, I get lost, naturally, but at least this time it's on my own watch. Take that, Andrew!

This evening, I find out what my brother's new plot is, wily one that he is. I'm hanging out on the couch when I sense my brother and his wife Angela looking over at me and whispering. I attempt to discern in a subtle manner what it is they're up to - I don't want them to know that I'm on to them:

Me: "Hey, what are you two whispering about? Trying to come up with new ways to kill me?"
Andrew: "Oh, don't be silly. We're just discussing whether you take half-and-half or heavy cream in your espresso. "
Me: "Umm, at 11PM? You know if I don't get enough sleep I go insane and then just keel over in a death spiral into beds of petunias."
Andrew: "So heavy cream then. Here you go - it's this great new French roast, very strong. You'll love it."
Me: "Very strong?"
Andrew: "Oh, I don't mean strong in the caffeine sense, no sirree. I just mean in terms of flavor. Yeah, that's it. It's very rich, robust, all that. But hardly any caffeine, I swear," he says, grinning broadly and reassuringly.
Me, a bit suspicious: "I don't know about the heavy cream. I have a bum heart, you know. Trying to avoid clogging up the arteries too much and all that."
Andrew: "'Heavy' cream, it's a bit of a misnomer. It has to do with the blah blah blah..." and off he goes on some tangent that circles back to wine and monks and why so-called heavy cream is really a good way to lower one's cholesterol. I am skeptical, but drink it anyway.

(3AM, wide awake)

Damn.


Saturday morning

It rained overnight, but while it's chilly when I get up, it's not raining.

Me: "I'm off to the farmers' market - I'll be back in a while!"
Andrew, sleepily: "Isn't it raining?"
Me: "No, just gloomy."
Andrew: "Okay, see you in a while."

I step outside. It starts raining. Sigh.

At the farmers' market, I wander around with the 5 or so other people who are also there. They're bundled up in down coats, thick scarves, and yes, even thick leather gloves. I overhear snippets of conversation: "This is the strangest weather we're having!" "Where did this cold front come from?" "Damn, it's freezing!" I bask in the glow of having the ability to bring about this kind of climatic change. However, there are some who try to deny the power of my abilities.


Me, chatting with the woman selling peach cobbler and sweet potato pies: "Too bad we don't have you selling these things in Chicago, where I'm from."
WSPCSPP: "Oh, Chicago, so you're used to this kind of weather. This is so unusual for this time of year!"
Me, modestly: "Well, yes, that.....it's me, really. I bring the bad weather and rain with me wherever I go. I'm kind of like a shaman that way."
WSPCSPP: "Oh, now don't say that, this is typical spring weather, it's not you."
Me, firmly: "No really, it is me. It happens all the time. Everywhere I go. I'm a walking bundle of storm clouds and rain."
WSPCSPP: "I don't believe that for a minute. This is totally normal. It'll pass, and go back to being sunny and 80, you'll see."
Me, gritting my teeth: "Sure, when I leave."

I decide to leave her to her delusions, though I'm a bit annoyed that there are those who fail to recognize the spiritually gifted among us. On my way home, I stick to my food plan which revolves around "going native," as it were. In other words, when I travel I like to stick to just the local food and produce. I thus stop at Jack-in-the-Box for a burger, and feel virtuous at having done my own little part to help combat global warming, setting an example for others to follow.