Aimee, bring layers. Most places, the saying "don't like the weather, wait ten minutes" works. In SF, it's more along the lines of "holy shit the fog, it's alive, it's coming to kill us all - wait, where the hell is the fog?!!"

Safest thing to pack for the Bay Area, always, is layers. Bring a couple of sleeveless and a couple of sleeves, and toss a warm jacket in the car. You've been living in the southland - you could get chilly.

edit: total David xpost.

Watching baseball with Hec and Suzi, et al, would be entertaining, true. If the game didn't get in the way of the talking and the anecdotes and the fun. I'm being a brat, I know. I just find most sports in.ter.min.a.ble. I'm missing a vital gene or something. I can't figure out why I should care who wins.

I also have no investment in which character I read. I'll pick up whoever isn't cast, if that's okay.

Clearly, I'm a wishy-washy individual who can't be arsed to make a stand on anything.

Clearly, I'm a wishy-washy individual who can't be arsed to make a stand on anything.

This may mitigate against the quite partisan enjoyment of your local sports team.

I'm sure truth falls somewhere between the folks who love it and the folks who consider it anathema. Boring anathema.

My sistah! I'm sure conversing with Buffistas can make almost anything fun, but I prefer my fun to be with better food and no drunken loudmouths shouting epithets in the background.

Yes, in my version of Hell baseball is the only sport. And Yoko Ono always sings the national anthem...

Bring a couple of sleeveless and a couple of sleeves, and toss a warm jacket in the car. You've been living in the southland - you could get chilly.

I've found that armwarmers are Teh Bomb Diggity here.

This may mitigate against the quite partisan enjoyment of your local sports team.

IJS. My lack of sports interest is a character flaw, I freely admit it. But I make up for it in other ways.

Yeah! Pesky liberal fencepost-sitting wishy-washy...oh. No. That's me. Mr Pot? How do you do. My name is Mr Kettle.

However, I think Hec's sold it to me. Cool. 'kay. I won't have much of a clue what's going on, but fun will be had. Sounds good to me.

(So long as I don't have to go anywhere near any frankfurters. Seriously. I'll send out a message to my peeps and homies and sing God Bless America and consider getting a Buffy-related tattoo and all that USA-loving jazz, but hotdogs are my line in the sand.)

I just find most sports in.ter.min.a.ble. I'm missing a vital gene or something. I can't figure out why I should care who wins.

I am Beverly.

I'm sure conversing with Buffistas can make almost anything fun, but I prefer my fun to be with better food and no drunken loudmouths shouting epithets in the background.

Apparently, I am Matt, as well.

I'm all about BBQ Chez Grabien.

Yes, in my version of Hell baseball is the only sport. And Yoko Ono always sings the national anthem...

My brother! Except my sport in Hell is basketball. And I'm chained to seat right behind the visiting team's bench, being forced to watch eleven foot tall people in baggy knickers, running back and forth and saying nasty things to each other, forever.

With (bleah) cheerleaders. Because Satan wants to make me his personal little pet.

I've found that armwarmers are Teh Bomb Diggity here.

What is it with you Californians and armwarmers? What the hell IS an armwarmer?