Me, whining about the climate in Paradise..

[Nazz]

Before I left the teeming coast for the empty interior I heard opinions on the subject. Three cubicles down, Benson put it most succinctly—“Everything southeast of Northwest is a shithole.” He was ex-Army and did time at China Lake as I recall, where arid space did nothing to stir his imagination. Maybe it was the heat. Now he goes fishing at every chance in dolorous, gray watercolors splashed with blue and green. What about sweeping seas of land? Not enough blue and green. But how much blue and green exist in a long, gray trudge? More like rare spikes of platinum in dull murk. But it's too hot down there. And did you hear about those dust storms?

True, a Northwestern summer is about the fairest ten weeks you could hope to find, kissed by gentle ocean gods on leave from their socked in seasons of rage, lazy and glutted in warmth. And of course “everyone loves the fall”, good for six more weeks—a total of four months, maybe. I labored through the dog-tired pall of the other eight, that's all. Yes, “everyone loves the seasons”, and there used to be four of them up there instead of eight months of sullen murk.

[Arcadia]

try to enjoy the good-weeks-of-the-year there, si?

[Nazz]

Si Arcadia. (And I changed my joke title also!!)