Tuesday, April 19, 2011


Yesterday, as we were talking to Chatty Mover, we found out that he hails from the Jersey Shore.  And, I actually did not think of that reality show filled with overly tanned men and women whom people think are a joke, but, now, garner quite a lot of money selling products and for speaking engagements around the country.  I did, however, think of Summer, family outings, and carnival games.  When I told him that I was from California, he said, "Oh, California! What part? I got a buddy who's stationed in San Diego.  I hear it's really nice there.  The weather is like always 75 degrees there."  When my partner said he had grown up in Colorado the response, less enthusiastic, was, "Uh-huh."

Does it really help to explain where you're from?  People, based on whatever input they've received about your home, will think what they like and go from there.

I remember when I was a study-abroad-student in SW Germany.  There were many of us from the CSU (Cal State University) system along with those students from across the US studying at the Universitaet.  It was always interesting to note the German students' reactions when us foreign students said where we were from.

"I'm from Wisconsin."  = tepid response/non-response

"I'm from Florida." = enthusiastic response of some sort, so this may have been before the spate of car-jackings on German tourists by Floridian thugs.

"I'm from South Dakota." = same response as the dude from WI

"I'm from California." = "Ah, Baywatch!"  "Ah, LA!"  "Ah, Disneyland!"

 Mind you, these three typical responses touch, in no way, my experience of life in CA.  The weather where I am from is not conducive to rescuing drowning victims in the ocean while looking hot in a one-piece.  LA is approximately a seven hour drive south from my home town.  -sorta like a "double decaf non-fat latte" order.  You what I'm saying?   It was not until the death of my father, when I was 32 years old, that I thought I'd finally go check out what all the fuss was about Disneyland.  Let's just say that the signs posted at entryways for most of the rides should read "If you're over this height, then you'll be bored outta yer fuckin' mind if you get on this thing."

Seasons in Pacifica or This is not San Diego

Summertime, for me, meant overcast days spent at Linda Mar Beach in a turtle neck eating sand-sandwiches cuz it was usually so darn windy out.  Venturing out to Coyote Point in San Mateo was much the same experience with just a bit more wind and sand. 

Overcast Fog Fest

Early-Fall often ushered in slightly warmer temps.  The fog would have normally burned off by early afternoon, and, as it was called, we'd have a couple of weeks of Indian Summer.  Pacifica's annual "Fog Fest", held at the end of Sept., was hardly ever foggy.  -guess the organizers should move the event to anytime between June and early-August for a grayer experience, but, I'd imagine, that they don't want folk not to show up.

Late-Fall meant crisper, cooler air with a certain scent that, sadly, these many years later I could only recall if I were to smell it.

Early-Winter was usually sharp and dry with short days and cold air-chapped cheeks.

Late-Winter was marked by colder, wetter weather that could carry on for days.

Spring seemed to be a solid precursor to Summer, but, perhaps, without as much fog.

All year round seemed to be bad for my hair.  Misty weather takes the "oomph" out of feathers. 

Turtleneck weather
Suffice it to say that no time during the year was the right time to put on a red one-piece bathing suit and bounce down the beach, hair waving in the breeze and warm surf lapping against one's toes.  Pam Anderson would have frozen her derriere off if she'd tried to pull that shit at Linda Mar.

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