We're having the a bit of the "offshore flow" or "Santa Ana's", the roaring, bone, dry winds that Raymond Chandler wrote of as "those hot dry [winds] that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen."
Well, yeah, they wore corsets and hose and had no AC. I kind of like those winds, what with me sitting here in a t-shirt and boxers with iced Perrier. If I had to wear a suit and a hat I'd want to bite people.
Quote is from dear, gone Grandpa Stein, his usual comment when I would pick him up for family dinner when I lived in Milwaukee. No, I wasn't his actual grandchild (he was my BFF Val's Grandfather); he insisted I call him that.