One of my favorite New Mexico stories happened right after we moved here. We went to a party in July and it was around 105 degrees. The party was at the enormous showcase house of the builder who built our then-house (much smaller of course). All the windows were open and there were a few ceiling fans. The party guests sat outside, in the direct sun, right next to these huge honking smoking grills the caterers had set up. I watched the makeup melting right off the women's faces.

So at this inferno of a party I mentioned how much I would like to get air conditioning for our house and everyone at the party looked at me like I was insane. Really. I was sitting there wilting on one of the hottest days of my life trying not to touch anything metal to any part of my body, my eyeballs were burning, and everyone there insisted they rarely even used their swamp coolers. New Mexicans love the heat I guess.

Since then I've tried to "embrace my inner lizard" as DH says but instead I think I'll just gaze longingly at this photo of some of my wool mittens and gloves in snow - lovely, lovely snow.