We were talking about the weather, Pär and I. About the strange way that Bay Area people seem to pretend that the weather follows certain patterns that it clearly does not. For example, people talk and dress as though it were hot in the summertime and cool in autumn, because that's what weather's supposed to be. Lots of people here -- even native Californians -- insist that the heat ends and the weather gets cooler around the end of August. When in fact, each year since we've been living here, the summer months are mildly warm, but the hottest months of the year have been September and even early October. Just this week we're having a heatwave, temperatures over 100 degrees, air conditioners shorting out the electrical power all over the Bay Area, and it's mid-September. Do people simply ignore that this happens, because it doesn't fit into their ideas of how the world is supposed to behave?

Pär suggested that perhaps the way it's been for the last few years is unusual weather in the longer-term scheme of things. Even excluding the greenhouse effect and other human-induced ecological changes, weather patterns change over time, he said. For example, Scandanavia used to be much colder in days of yore. It was a difference of a few degrees, perhaps. But it meant the strait would freeze over in the winters, which never happens now, and that stretch of ice had big consequences because suddenly, Sweden became part of the continent for half the year.

"So we could invade Denmark," he said cheerfully.

"Or Denmark could invade you," I said.

"Yes. But we invaded them, because we are mightier."

"All you Scandanavian countries invaded each other all the time. It's like you just had nothing better to do in the winters."

(Note: This comment is not entirely unserious. I've lived in Sweden during the winters. It's dark for half the day and relentlessly cold. Everyone just sort of hunkers down, emotionally hibernates, and drinks. The suicide rate rockets. Why not go travelling, see Denmark, climb the lovely fjords, bring an axe?)

"Danes," Pär snorted. "Fucking sausage-eaters."

"What!"

"That's all they do, drink beer and eat sausage!"

I blinked, listening to the echo of his words. "That's all you do," I pointed out.

"No I don't. I don't eat sausage."

"You eat sausage all the time! You cooked some into your pasta last night!"

"I don't eat it the way that Danes do," he amended. "With them it's a way of life. Like, 'Oh, it's morning, let's wake up and eat sausage and drink beer.' 'Weren't we supposed to do something today?' 'I dunno, let's have some more sausage and beer.'" He rolled his eyes.

"You are so jealous."

"Absolutely. I've always thought the Danes had a great approach to life."