I couldn’t help but take a picture of the blue sky this past weekend. I felt that I needed to capture it on camera as actual documented evidence that the sun did, in fact, break through one day this “spring.” For all of you Pacific Northwesterners; you are welcome.
For my husband who is flying home from Arizona today; bundle up. While he was on the golf course yesterday, he thought it would be prudent to call and share a fun fact with me. Do you know how many sunny days Phoenix has each year? Want to wager a guess? Three hundred SIXTY. Yes. I said 360. A mere five days shy of the entire year.
Then, as if to add insult to injury, he called me on his way to the airport to tell me that when he woke up at 4:20 am, it was only 70 degrees. He had to turn on the heat. Because he was so chilly.
“What?” I asked. “I can’t hear you. The hail is pelting my windshield for the THIRD time this morning. I’m on my way to campus.”
The way I see it, there are two options for minimization today:
1. My time spent in the Pacific Northwest for the nine months spanning October-June.
2. My husband’s time spent in the Sunny Southwest without me during any of said months.