It’s finally chilly in the mornings again. It started to cool off a bit in California before my Hawaii trip, but right before we left, the dry, cow-scented Santa Ana winds heated up SoCal again. This weekend it was so dry that, having forgotten to smear body butter on myself after the shower Sunday morning, my skin felt itchy at the Getty Center, like it was gonna rip if I bent over too suddenly.

Even though the high was forecasted to be 85 degrees F today, the morning was icy. I wrapped up in a thick terry bathrobe after my shower. Dodo-Puff’s fur was cold to the touch, too. He’s fluffier than usual, which means his body’s sensing the climate shift as well and is growing extra fur. (Either that or I need to brush him more to get rid of the old fur.)

I like chilly mornings. It reminds me of winter mornings past.
* Me as a 6-year-old in the country for the first time, away from the tropical island I was born, looking out the window minutes before dawn breaks, admiring the water-colored people-less tree-lined streets that is America.
* Reading Calvin & Hobbes cartoons in elementary and high school, wishing I could relate to the sled-rides, the snow monsters, the snow fort, the mittens/scarves/snow pants.
* Reading other stories of 60s and 70s American life, wanting so badly to tap into a maple tree for maple syrup that I could boil on the stove, then bring outside to pour on some tightly packed and pounded snow on the ground to make crunchy maple candy.
* Awakening in the mornings at UCLA in the chill, seeing Diana up and moving around making tea, or plodding along in her pajamas getting set to study with her gigantic headphones.
* Walking the Naples water canals in Long Beach with my coworker Sandy and our significant others, admiring the extravagant Christmas decor of the rich with endless money to throw at electricity.
* Curling up on my sheepskin rug in front my crackling lit fireplace the first time I was really truly happy in my own skin being single, smiling at my house, my Dodo boy and multitude of lit candles around me.
* Mr. W lighting his fake fireplace for me knowing I love the dance of flames, and finally allowing me to throw in a pine cone so I could watch it change to carbon (I had a blog by then, and I wrote about that here).

There are so many more memories, in between all these events, that I savor and relive when the temperature drops. =)