Burn, baby, burn.

This has to be one of the hottest summers I can remember experiencing in a long while. Southern California has transformed into a blazing furnace of bizarre humidity and aggressive UV rays, but that didn't deter me from an outdoor excursion with Sam in Santa Monica last week. We set out to go for a hike and tackle a staircase or two in hopes that the coastal breeze might be cool enough to shelter us from the midday sun. In a word: Nope. It was not enough. My skin was burning as fast as my muscles were. We cut our hike short, powered through the staircasing (including the behemoths between 4th St and Adelaide Dr which are used daily as an outdoor gym by people more fit that I could ever be) and headed for the safety of a movie on the 3rd St Promenade.

Halftime with a Jones Green Apple Soda and a food truck.

Between this and the unattended cooler of $1 bottles of water near the staircases, I'm encouraged by the honor system that still exists even in LA.

Somehow I didn't actually take any pictures of the staircases we hiked. Not entirely sure how that happened. I blame the heat. Here are some pictures from a year ago when I first encountered these 'cases.

I'm beginning to see an interesting parallel between the weather and the climate within my own heart during this season. In many ways God seems to be burning off anything that is not of Him.

With that said: Burn, baby, burn.



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