Hot

We’re from Wisconsin so we’re sitting in the shade storing up the cool before going to our granddaughter’s graduation being held in her San Diego high school’s football stadium this afternoon. A single palm tree shields us but its coverage is shrinking by the minute as the sun marks two, now three o’clock.

We are hardy but eschew sun and heat, at least I do, and would be more comfortable wearing twelve layers of long underwear, a parka with a fur ruff, and a hand knit muffler sitting in the path of an icy blast with snow piling up in our laps – a scenario played out for real at more than one Packers football game in Green Bay.

I prepared well for this event by packing a pair of black dress pants that will guarantee that my legs will feel like Punchy’s black back within five minutes after taking our seats on the metal bleachers.

All of this matters not despite my complaints.

We are here.