You are no Santa

There are a lot of ways that living in California trumps living in Indiana. There are a lot of ways that living in Indiana trumps living in California.

Pro-California:

• No snow or ice (unless you go looking for it up in the mountains)
• No tornadoes
• It hardly ever rains
  
• Lots of sunshine once the marine layer burns off
• Seeing a TV show shooting a few blocks away from your apartment as you walk to happy hour
• The ability to go surfing and skiing all in the same day
• The weather channel has to give three different weather forecasts: one for LA, one for the beaches, and one for the inland valleys, because they're all different
• People call interstates "freeways"
• The number of a freeway is always prefaced with "the"
• Much better ethnic food restaurants
• Carls, Jr!
• Driving an hour and a half in rush hour traffic to get to work doesn't seem like a big deal
  

Pro-Indiana:

• Thunderstorms!
• Different types of rain
• No earthquakes
• The Indy 500
• Colts football every Sunday during football season without having to pay DirecTV for the NFL Sunday Ticket
• Changes of seasons
• People call the freeways "interstates"
• You don't have to preface an interstate number with "the" ("The 465," are you kidding me?)
• White Castle!
• Drive an hour and a half to work and you end up in Ohio, that's how awesome rush hour traffic is

So, when I moved to California, I was happily in the land where no tornado could come and huff and puff and blow my house down, and then I was introduced to the Santa Ana winds. I'm not really sure what causes the Santa Ana's, but it's a seasonal weather thing with winds that can gust at like 80 mph on a continual basis all day and all night. They thrive in the canyons and inland valleys and the land even further inland than that. When Edgar and I lived in Ontario, the Santa Ana's were so bad that they would knock over the landscaped trees in our apartment community, cover our cars in dirt, knock over patio furniture, generally wreaking havoc on the morning after clean-up. I got used to them fairly quickly, and when the winds would kick up I'd just be like "Oh, hmpf, the Santa Ana's again" and that would be that, and I would walk away feeling satisfied that I had successfully assimilated. HOWEVER. When we moved to Long Beach, I secretly thought to myself "How awesome is this, no more Santa Ana's!" Here we are, living less than a mile from the water, how would it be possible to have Santa Ana strength wind here?

Apparently it's possible. I want my money back.

Something crazy and wacky was going on in the air yesterday, because by the time I got home, the wind was insane. There were dirt and leaves and palm tree fronds whipping around the sidewalks, trash blowing around everywhere, and the cat was freaking the hell out because he was all "This? I thought we were done with this shit?" And I was all "Me too, little buddy, me too." And that stupid wind kept me up until ONE O'CLOCK this morning. That is one hour after midnight. That is five hours before I have to get up. THAT IS NOT RIGHT.

California, you're testing me. I don't like it. Quit it.