The sun, it remembered us.

This city is an entirely different place when it's not raining. When it's -- dare I say it? -- warm. The past two days have felt like a vacation. People are celebrating. It's like that scene in Pleasantville when everything turns to color.

And by that I mean, surprising.

Instead of boots and tights and multiple twisted socks, instead of the perpetual damp, instead of the rain and the wind -- god, the wind -- it's sandals and it's walking slowly because for once you don't want to get to where you're going. You just want to be where you are.

When the sun comes to San Francisco the city smells like hot brick and flowers and outdoor dining. People drive with their windows down and their music up and every street feels like a party. You get to stroll down to Golden Gate Park with no jacket and big earrings and get food from a truck at Off the Grid. You get to sit in the grass with your friend and his dog eating Korean BBQ tacos and steamed pork buns from Chairman Bao and watch the sun set behind the trees.

Like this.

And? If you're lucky? The warm weather will coincide with an actual party on the street, like the Lower Haight Art Walk, and you'll get to spend your Friday evening enjoying art, drinks, and live music.

Happy Friday, my pets. Word has it the rain will be back tomorrow, but until then I'll be wearing a flower in my hair like this girl.