50 Days ‘til 50 Day 8--Baby It’s Cold Outside

50 Days ‘til 50Day 8Baby It’s Cold Outside!When I lived in Miami, sometime in June I would start to hear it. “Isn’t it warmer than it was last year?” Or “Isn’t it hotter than it should be for this time of year?” Of course I noticed it also as the winters there are just so perfectly warm, no humidity, and even cool in the evening hours. I always felt much more alive and active in the winter months there than I ever did in the summertime. Now in hindsight, it was probably no warmer than the year before and no hotter than the year before. I think that we would just convince ourselves that it was so we could somehow hold on to those last days of spring. As I now approach 50 I seem to be even more sensitive to it. I heard someone the other day say something like “I didn’t really notice the heat until every person I came across today had to tell me how hot it is, of which of course then I felt it.” We all know it’s hot and I suppose we don’t need reminding of it. Now for people in Alaska this may seem like a bit of a moan and groan blog, but I don’t live in Alaska and would probably not even be writing this if I did.I grew up in New England. With 4 distinct seasons of which none of them lasted so long that you really got completely sick of them. By April the warm would roll in and by October it would roll out. Although my New England family and friends may disagree with me after this winter that just passed. Anyway, follow along. Summers were warm, and hot at times. We would have the luxury as a family of spending time on a lake outside of Fitzwilliam, NH and usually take a trip down to Cape Cod for a week or to the Rhode Island shore. Somewhere close enough to drive, but that felt miles away from everyday life. I never really got the gene to want to just lie in the sun for 8 hours a day. I guess it’s my French and English background and the curse of the light pink skin tone. I would burn very easily and then spend the next two days and nights peeling and scratching and being miserable. Although it was cool to show off your peeling skin to your friends, it was not cool to live through it. I was an active child though, swimming, water-skiing, biking, hiking and most of the things we did as children in that era. We didn’t have a TV in every room, or the internet, or TIVO, and I learned very early on growing up that all you need is a good imagination and some time alone and I could make up all sorts of games and fantasies in my head that would keep me busy and active for hours, even the entire day. I also had horrible eczema as a small child and it followed me into my adult years although not nearly as bad. If I sweat to much I would start to itch, the eczema would flare up even worse from the sweating and I always remember having a rash on the backs of my knees, my ankles, my elbows, etc. I had it so badly that when I was very young the doctor had told my Mother to wrap my hands and feet in some salve and cover them with plastic bread bags, to keep the moisture in I imagine while I slept. It would take me approximately 13 minutes to scratch the baggies completely off and my Mother would find me in the mornings with the torn bags still wrapped around my wrists and ankles and blood all over the sheets from my inability to not scratch. I was even convinced for a time that I was allergic to my own sweat. (This has had not one finding in my entire life just for the record.) I went on to have complete exhaustive tests done at the dermatologists and pediatricians in which I was diagnosed as pretty much allergic to everything. I had to receive weekly shots in both arms to reduce the effect of the allergies from horse, dog, cat, dust, pollen, food, tree, flower…you get the idea. I was a high maintenance kid to be sure. Many of these allergies went away into my adolescence but get me around certain dog dander, horses, and the usual spring and fall allergies today and I blow up like a big red balloon. Not so pretty.So I find it funny that I would live over 15 years in South Florida in the extreme heat and humidity and then most recently be living in the desert of Southern California. Its 112 degrees here today by the way. I would count the days in Miami when the summer would drift into winter and those first few days when the temperature would drop and the humidity would drop even further. It was like I was reborn all of sudden. I wanted to be outside, doing things with my friends, active; I was completely a different person. I guess if I were a season it would be autumn. Palm Springs summers are extremely hot. The locals have the running joke that “it’s a DRY heat” somehow excusing the fact that you could fry an egg on the hood of your car. When I got in my car today after work, the internal thermometer read 135 degrees. Of course it dropped quickly to the aforementioned 112 degrees as I started driving but it’s still damn hot. It’s kind of like carrying a blowdryer around with you all day and blasting it in your face, on the highest heat setting. The doorknobs of local businesses have coverings on them, as they get to hot to grab with your bare hands. You can’t walk to the mailbox barefoot without scoring a 3rd degree burn on your soles, dogs wear little booties to protect their pads from the asphalt and everything now tastes better on ice. Coffee, tea, maybe even mashed potatoes. Everything seems to happen here in the early hours of the day or days end when the sun drops behind the mountains. The temperatures do drop almost 30 degrees over night but quickly heat up in the morning. It’s a sort of reverse hibernation. Hibernate in the summer months and come out in the fall.There must be something that keeps attracting me to the heat however. I haven’t quite figured it out. I lived in Manhattan for many years and I was one of those who suffered from seasonal effective disorder where I would get very down during the long winter months and the void of sunlight. Maybe it’s that. They say sun in moderation is good for you, releasing vitamins and melatonin into the body and brain thus making you feel better. Maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s the light I find most attractive. The bright blue skies, the colorful majestic mountains that surround me, just like moths to a flame; I drift towards areas of brightness. Someone told me once that the human affinity for light is a mechanism of survival. Ok, Ill go with that one. I was watching a food show the other day and they were in Hawaii at an old family run business that serves only shaved ice with flavored syrup. Maybe that’s what I need?jf