Friday, the high was 88 degrees. It was humid, and my AC was going full on, but I still needed to use a catalog (full of sweaters and flannel shirts) to fan myself.

Today, it is 62 degrees. I would like to issue a formal protest. My metabolism is simply not equipped to shift around this fast. Nor is my closet. All my long-sleeved things are way at the back, and if I go to the trouble to root around in my closet and reverse everything so that the summer stuff is in the back, I know that tomorrow the high will be in the high eighties.

Fall in Ohio is this way. It stinks. Not literally, but it is no wonder that people around here get crabby. They make chili, only to find out that it won’t be “chilly” enough the next day to really enjoy it. So they put it in the freezer, make a salad with some nice cottage cheese and cold cuts, and the temperature drops an hour later.

I nearly turned on the furnace this morning, but my husband forbid it, instead turning up the thermostat on the central air system to 79. He does not trust that we won’t be needing the cooling aspect just quite yet. The fact that right now it is 68 degrees in here–and my teeth are chattering–is not enough to change his mind.

So for dinner, I decided to make something we can eat hot OR cold. Genius, right? As long as you consider Campbell’s Tomato Soup unheated to be gazpacho. And a cheese sandwich can be heated up real fast in the microwave.

Just call me The Barefoot Contessa–with socks and shoes on.

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