But it's a dry heat.

I heard Texas was hot. In fact, when I'd tell people back east that I was moving to the Lone Star State, the first thing out of their mouths was almost always, "It's so hot there," and then they'd make some remark about tornados (which I ignored).

My faithful stand-by response was always, "but in the Panhandle, it's a dry heat!"

And here I sit in the dead of summer looking a the three-digit temperature on Weather.com. Man, 101 degrees is just hot, dry, wet or in between.

However, it's not lost on me - that muggy suffocation that comes with east coast humidity. I fully remember walking out the front door of my North Georgia home last summer and my make-up melting off (and running down my shirt) by the time I got to the car. Or my inability to breathe on an August afternoon when the moisture in the air was so thick that it stuck like glue to the inner lining of my lungs. Or waving the white flag in the battle to straighten my curly hair, a battle I seem to have won back since moving to Texas.

Fortunately, everything I read about Amarillo summer nights is true - there's nothing like sitting on my back porch when the temperature drops to the 70s and a warm breeze swirls around the yard. It's pleasant and peaceful, and the sunsets are equally as enjoyable.

Now if we can just do something about that wind.
--Jennie