talking about the weather

According to etiquette, or so I hear, talking about the weather is a good way to break the ice. Since I'm attending Blogher for the first time in two short weeks and might have to actually venture out of my hotel room to meet new people, I thought I'd get in some practice. Luckily, both my sister and my friend Scottish Lass (in real life, and in blogland) will be coming so I'll have someone to both hide behind and steal good lines from.

In the meantime, this photo demonstrates why from day to day and sometimes even in the same day, you'll see my family in hoodies and windbreakers in one photo, and t-shirts and shorts in the next.

That fog (yes, it's fog) hovers over my house most of the summer (and is, as we speak). Under it we're talking goosebumps at 60 degrees Fahrenheit. But if we drive up Mt. Tam for about 40 minutes, we pop up above the fog and find ourselves in 90 degree temperatures like we were today.

English hubby looking cool in blasting heat. (hi honey)

Sweetpea (in fashionable hiking gear) and English hubby on the way to the top.

After a short hike up to the summit with all the girls, we basically stuck our heads right under the drinking fountain to cool off.

Sistah and nieces all cooled off.

Five hours ago I was on top of a mountain, red-faced from the heat with sweat dripping off my forehead. Now I'm cuddled on the couch with the furnace on and wondering whether English hubby might fetch my fuzzy socks from upstairs if I ask nicely.

And that's the weather. Good night, folks.
(Let me know if I bored you to tears. I've got two weeks to work on my delivery...)