it's a heat wave

It's been one of those rare days in San Francisco -- gloriously hot. One of the few things I don't like about living here is that we don't get really hot summers. I can live without the humidity of Iowa and the East Coast, but the heat I miss. So I relish the few heatwaves we get every year. This is our second -- the other was an unseasonably hot week in March, which coincided perfectly with my first week of unemployment. Tonight, I was perfectly comfortable walking home from my parking garage at 10pm in shorts and a t-shirt. Anyone who knows SF summer weather will understand how miraculous this is. Weather reports suggest that tomorrow will be the last day of the high temperatures, so I'll enjoy it while it lasts.

Caught the last couple innings of the Giants game while I was driving home from chorus tonight, a win for once. I've been starting to worry that San Francisco had somehow angered the baseball gods, but perhaps tonight's victory, over the Braves no less, is a sign that they have been appeased, at least for now. It is never wise to get on the wrong side of the baseball gods. Of course there are baseball gods -- why else would we have rituals where we provide burnt offerings of sausages and hot dogs, otherwise known as "tailgate parties"? It's like Anya said on the Thanksgiving episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer: "To commemorate [an] event, you cook and eat an animal. It's a ritual sacrifice. With pie." Only in this case it's with beer and chips. Okay, maybe it's stretching it to call a hot dog an animal. But it was part of an animal. Once. Partly. If you buy good ones.