Sure, temps in the 90s are no big deal if you live in the Southwest. In Phoenix, for example, it's downright cool and breezy. But in Seattle, where the all time record high of 100 degrees was set back in 1891, it's pretty much as hot as we can go without getting pissy. Pacific Northwesterners are acclimated to colder temperatures as a matter of environment. When the mercury hits 60, we're donning shorts and flip-flops and shedding our layers of REI sweaters and Hanes hoodies (showing off piercings and tattoos - and fat reserves - that are often best left to the imagination). And home air conditioning is almost unheard of here.
Well, this week, it's supposed to get hot and stay there until we dip back under 90 for the weekend. Add the fact that Seattle is essentially an inland metropolis, despite its position on a large body of water. Socked in by mountains on either side, our air tends to heat up and stop moving, and when that happens, the air quality quickly goes down the tubes. And on top of everything else, Seafair is this week - a festival dominated by hydroplane racing and Blue Angel aerobatics, all of which add to the carbon in the the general breathing supply.
Short version: Seattle is one of the cleanest and most beautiful cities in the country when the air is moving. When it hits high summer and decides to stop, however, it's kinda lame. Not California or Texas stupid-hot, but lame nonetheless.
I think Robert Smith described the situation perfectly.
Of course, the moment it started to broil, I decided to get on the roof and start sweeping off the tree crap and moss that had accumulated in the last three years. It took most of four hours and ended with me getting dizzy and thinking that a pointy roof over a two-story drop was probably not the best place to be dizzy. But the roof looks oodles better, and Sunday our agent hosted an open house while TFMD went to a baby shower and I took the kids to the movies and lunch at Blue C. It was a first for both of them (the Blue C sushi, not the movies), and it was quite a hit.
Later on, Dan & Trish came over to talk shop and we ended up having a little "deli dinner" (french bread with deli meats and cheeses... and wine). Then we retired for the evening and tried to stay cool.
I predict popcicles will find their way into the grocery cart this afternoon.