Talk About the Weather

The wine snob takes a fine merlot, swirls, sniffs, swills, and remarks, “Fruity – high notes of cherry with an undertone of oak.”

The frat guy takes a gulp. “Hmm – Hell of a lot better than my Beast.”

I am similarly lost when Southern Californians comment on the weather.

Days perfect and rare in Boston to make top execs play hooky are cast aside with distain.

My first days here, I was constantly amazed by temperate climate. During that time, I contacted my department’s student affairs officer to ask if there were any meetings I needed to set up before term began.

In an overzealous effort to apologize for the “hellish heat”, his response included a detailed meteorological lesson on the Santa Ana winds. There was no mention of anything relevant to my question.

I am slowly learning how seasons, frigid mornings, unbearable warmth, and depressing grays can live in the range of 65-75 degrees, mostly sunny to partly cloudy. In a few months, I will become a connoisseur.