Until three years ago, my summers were hot. The kind of sticky hot where you want to spend the days by the pool with a trashy novel sipping Bud Light Limes (yes, I think they’re delicious — go ahead and judge me).

I was a bartender back then, so that kind of lifestyle was acceptable.

I would turn three fans on at full speed and lie in my underwear on top of all my covers so I could sleep. And then, come 3 am, I’d have to run down to the pool and jump in and out to cool down.

There were pool parties and tiki nights. Baseball games and movies in the park.

None of which required a light sweater.

[THE BF FOUND IT!!! He’s my hero).

One of the biggest things I miss the most about Colorado is the weather. The seasons. There are actually four of them. Fall is orange and red and the nights cool down but the days are still warm. Winter is snowy (and icy) and require boots and gloves and snowball fights. Spring is dewy and smells of blossoming flowers. And summer is hot and sticky and the afternoons boom with thunder.

Seasons are something San Francisco doesn’t have. There’s windy, rainy, foggy, sunny (but still cold), and on the off-chance, you actually get a handful of days like the past three — 75 degrees and sunny.

The past three days have been perfection. The weather has been gloriously warm. And I had the best time visiting with my mom. I’m a lucky girl to have a mom like her.

I’m still in love with this city. But I wouldn’t hate it if it was a little hotter, a little stickier, a little more seasonal. But I do have San Francisco to thank for my lovely selection of light sweaters.

Huge props (hugs and smooches) to anyone who can link me to that friggen Someecard.