For Delicate Tropical Flowers, It’s Cold
Don’t call me a wimp. But I am wearing sweatpants, a long-sleeve shirt and the ugliest pair of fuzzy house slippers ever recorded in house slipper history. I’m baking chicken for dinner and standing next to the oven because, you know, it’s warm there. Tonight, I’ll curl up under two blankets and then throw an old bathrobe on top of the pile, just for good measure.
It’s cold in Hawaii!
Right now, at 6 in the evening, it’s a chilly 73 degrees. The overnight forecast calls for the mercury to plummet to the mid-60s. I’m going to turn into a Popsicle.
We locals must seem very strange to our Mainland friends and family. My son, who’s experiencing winter in West Virginia, ridicules me. I nag him to wear more clothes when the temperature drops to single digits and he rolls his eyes. He brags that if the temperature rises to 30 or 40 degrees, it’s “shorts weather.”
OK, he has a point. We complain — a lot — about the kind of weather the poor, freezing folks in sub-zero climes pay an arm and a leg to experience. They point and scoff when we whine about our 60-degree wind chill.
But we can’t help it. We Hawaii people are thin-blooded, sun-seeking, exotic tropical flowers. We thrive in hothouse conditions — mid 80-degree temperatures, preferably with a side of moist, cooling tradewinds. We’re not spoiled, just delicate. And we only complain a little bit. Like, whenever the temperature dips below 80.
Actually, I love the cooler weather. What’s considered fall apparel in other places is most definitely winter clothes here. I may look a little over-dressed, but who cares? People are posting selfies of themselves wearing sweaters, sweatpants and jackets — and rubber slippers, of course. Not me. I finally get to bust out the boots.
My friends on Facebook are showing off their best pictures of cold-weather food: Portuguese bean soup bubbling on the stove; thick, red Hawaiian stew; steaming Japanese hot pots; aromatic pho; and hearty oxtail soup. Mmmmm. As Mom would say, ono!
So, OK, we may be a little bit spoiled and a tad fragile by Mainland standards, but give us a break, please. Let us bundle up and slurp down pots of stew. Ignore our obnoxious iPhone screenshots of the freezing cold 65-degree temperature at 5 in the morning. Tune out our whining and turn a blind eye to our exaggerated shivering.
This is our winter. It’s the best we can do. Let us enjoy it while we can.