Last Saturday, I was on my way to the airport in Chicago when I received a text from a friend asking if I wanted to go to the beach. Is she crazy? I thought. It was raining and I was wearing a sweater; it was decidedly not beach weather. Of course, this friend lives in New York, and, once I landed at JFK a few hours later, I realized that it was a perfectly reasonable invitation. The weather in New York was warm and sunny … it was summer!
I celebrated summer (and Memorial Day weekend) with some friends at The Standard Biergarten on Sunday. As happy as we were to be kicking off summer with outdoor drinks, we were grateful that the Biergarten is covered and therefore kept the hot sun off our backs. (This had the added bonus of preventing my self-tanner from melting all over me any more than it already had. Note to self: Allow self-tanner to dry completely before heading out into the blazing sun.)
The heat only increased as the week has gone on, taking on a headache-inducing quality, which has made it difficult to enjoy the sunshine. (Honestly, it’s hard to enjoy the weather when you suspect it might be out to kill you.) We desperately needed groceries yesterday, and I didn’t want to walk in the heat all the way to Trader Joe’s, so I decided to take the train to Whole Foods. That route minimizes my time out in the direct sun (and also allows me to purchase Sunshine Burgers, my unequivocally favorite veggie burgers!). What I neglected to remember, however, is that waiting on the subway platform feels like standing in front of the gates to Hell. After waiting for what seemed like forever for the Q, there was a “signal problem” and it skipped my stop, necessitating that I get off one stop past mine and wait on another platform for a train headed back in my direction.
It’s only been cooling off a bit at night – the temperature has been dropping to, say, the mid-seventies instead of hovering around ninety. That usually means a cold shower and air conditioning before bed, but last night we had a friend visiting, so it meant frozen margaritas. (Yay!) The boys hadn’t eaten, so we headed out looking for a late dinner and discovered that Habana Outpost had opened again for the season. It’s always kind of a scene, and last night was no exception, but it was delightful to get to sit outside and enjoy a (delicious, but rapidly melting) frozen margarita. If this heat keeps up, I see many more of those in my future.