Heat is hard on a transplant Texan

August 27, 2008 10:28 am

— I’ll admit right up front I’m a Texan transplant. I was born in San Diego. Now, I’m not a recent transplant, but I’m fairly certain you have to be born in Texas for the term “Texan” to really apply.
The older I get, the happier I am to live where I live. I love being close to my extended family. I love my small-town church. I love the school system. I love knowing my neighbors. I’m glad I decided to raise my family in small-town Texas, even if I’m not a native.
Most of the time I don’t notice my non-Texan-ness. Perhaps that’s because I’ve found most Texan stereotypes are grossly over-stated. I know tons of born-and-bred Texans who would rather go to a gallery opening than a tractor pull. The majority of the people I talk to on a regular basis have excellent grammar skills, even those with thick southern accents.
No, I really don’t see that much of a difference between myself and natural Texans. We’re all just people, right?
Oh, but then it becomes summer in Texas and the differences become glaringly evident. I have no problem admitting I very frequently holler, “How do you people live like this?”
My mother, a Texas native, handles the heat with ease. My husband and son hardly notice when the temperature breaks 100 degrees. But me? Well, I don’t deal with it that nicely.
I have a comfort zone about 10 degrees wide, from 68 degrees to 78 degrees. Why? Because that’s what the temperature is nearly year-round in Southern California, and that’s the temperature at which I was baked.
So when I can sit “nekkid” in my living room with a glass of ice water in my hand and a cold pack on my neck and still have sweat pouring from my forehead ... let’s just say I whine like a stuck siren.
I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. I’m a summer time wuss, a sweat-a-phobic, a pansy.
I have become a champ when it comes to Texas winters. Those storms that blow up in an hour, the lightning-fast temperature drops, the ice ... I’m a pro. Because, you see, in the winter, I can always put on another sweater. I can buy battery-powered socks to keep my feet warm. I can start a fire. It’s never out of my power to get a little warmer.
But in the summer? I’m powerless. You can always put more clothes on, folks, but there’s a limit to what you can take off ... in public, that is.
This blessed cool front and the rain last week were quite nice. I had hoped they were going to last. The air conditioning unit in my house was enjoying the break. Oh ... sweet relief.
But it was not to be. Today, it’ll be back up in the upper-90s.
Again, I ask ... how do you people live like this?