Life in California is full of vexing questions. Is hosting the Oscars the worst gig in Hollywood? Why have so many San Franciscans never been to Alcatraz? And what ever happened to that high-speed-rail idea?
Alta Journal has enlisted two experts to answer all of your questions: Stacey Grenrock Woods and Gustavo Arellano, both of whom bring decades of hard-won knowledge and laser-sharp insights into the Golden State.
Have a question of your own? Ask a Californian!
Since California doesn’t have seasons, how do you even know it’s spring?
—Same Old, Same Old
Gustavo: I could say—and be right—that spring starts with Coachella Festival, or opening day in baseball, or the annual chokefest that’s the Los Angeles Clippers in the playoffs. But for me, the real kickoff is when Latino men—and, increasingly, women—dig into their closets and once again wear their finest guayaberas. You know the shirts: wide collars, embroidered pleats running in the front and back, with four pockets on the chest and gut. Usually made of cotton or linen. Also known as a Mexican waiter shirt by old gringos, guayaberas class up the biggest slob (there’s still hope, Zach Galifianakis!) and are strictly shirts for sunny days, which is why they’re starting to bloom across L.A. but won’t make an appearance in the Bay Area until, well, never.
Stacey: Gee, Same Old, where you live, it must be Presumption Season, that wondrous time of year when you and Bob Geldof (and Sting, and Bananarama) sing singsongy songs lamenting what you presume other people lack. Remember what they say about presumptions: When you presume, you make a résumé out of u and me, and that résumé lists your most recent job as “ass.” Do we know it’s springtime at all? Yes, we do, and the only water flowing isn’t the bitter stream of tears—we have that and the L.A. River, which is a pretty even mix of rainwater and tears. So you and your supergroup (I see you there, Spandau Ballet) can keep your bags of rice. Here in California, we’ve got tons, and ours is made of cauliflower.
Californians don’t have to rely on heavy-handed weather cues or pushy leaf colors to know when the seasons change. We have evolved to sense the subtle shifts—the smell of night-blooming jasmine, the disappearance of the Shamrock Shake, the changing out of old, weathered lawyer billboards with fresh, new lawyer billboards—that mark the period between Daytime Sweater and Frying Pan Sidewalk that the rest of you call spring. But perhaps the most telling and the most gratifying sign is the little giggle of submission between you and your lunch companion when the host asks you if you’d rather sit inside or out and you choose out knowing full well that there will be no heat lamp. That’s when you really know spring, or something, has sprung.
Oh, and there is one other thing we use—it’s called a calendar, and it comes with the first day of spring, March 20, clearly marked. You should check one out when you’re done gazing at leaves.
What’s with all the lizards? Everywhere I go—all over this great state of ours, at all times of year—I’m wading through lizards: Little tiny baby ones, big adult ones are constantly darting out from under me as I walk along. I’ve lived here all my life, and I’ve never seen such a preponderance of lizards. Does it indicate some sort of biological shift that we should be aware of?
—Leapin’ over Lizards
Gustavo: You mean besides the slitherers in Sacramento? I’m no herpetologist (someone who studies amphibians and reptiles and not someone who studies people who need to keep their pants on more often), but I do know that the lizards you see fleeing from you when you step outside are not just harmless but beneficial: They snack on cockroaches and other bugs that are far more problematic to your health and your plants. If one comes inside? Leave it alone—it’ll eventually move along. But if you’re seeing more slimy scamperers around, it probably means there are more bugs where you’re at, which might mean you’re a giant slob. Try a guayabera.
Stacey: A Preponderance of Lizards? Was that the Pink Floyd album after A Saucerful of Secrets, or did I dream that? Regardless, it sounds like a living nightmare.
Except it’s not. I checked the book of Exodus, and while they feel spiritually similar to frogs, lizards are not one of the 10 plagues. That, coupled with the fact that you’re apparently of sound enough mind to query the two best advice-givers in the biz, makes me think that the appearance of these lizards, while quite freaky, is no cause for alarm. In fact, these creatures are technically a sign of spring, so your seeing them all the time must mean that it’s eternally spring. Neat!
For help, I turned to my many herpetologist friends. None of them were able to assist me—they were all experiencing nasty flare-ups—but they did tell me that the lizard explosion was an example of what’s called urban evolution, which is when a species evolves to deal with an urban environment, and they directed me to the work of Kristin Winchell, the New York University herpetologist whose research has shed light on how city lizards have developed longer limbs to run through cities faster and larger, stickier toe pads that help them climb smooth surfaces like buildings and windows, in case I wanted to know more, which I didn’t. Ultimately, they reminded me about what kinds of things make a species thrive: optimal weather conditions, abundant food sources, and an absence of predators. California certainly has great lizard weather, there are tons of delicious bugs, and most of the lizard-killing kids are inside playing first-person shooter games. Plus, all the hawks are vegan.
Is it me, or have the dry parts of California gotten a lot more humid in the past few years? Even the desert seems less dry.
—It’s Not a Dry Heat
Gustavo: It ain’t just you. In a 2023 paper, “Contrasting Intraurban Signatures of Humid and Dry Heatwaves over Southern California,” scientists tracked exactly what you’re feeling, except they used “MERRA-2 reanalysis data to compare mesoscale dynamics, followed by high-resolution Weather Research and Forecasting modeling,” while you probably came to your conclusion by tracking how quickly you sweated through your clothes. May I suggest wearing a guayabera?
Stacey: Oh my God, I was going to reference 2023’s “Contrasting Intraurban Signatures of Humid and Dry Heatwaves over Southern California”! Seriously, I couldn’t put it down. It was some of the best humidity lit I’ve read since Faulkner. I especially loved the use of MERRA-2 reanalysis data to compare mesoscale dynamics. I used to think nothing could beat MERRA for reanalyzing data and comparing mesoscale dynamics, but boy, was I wrong! I should have realized that when you follow it with high-resolution weather research and forecast modeling, that’s bound to happen. Oh well, live and learn.
So, yes, California is getting more humid, even in the desert. Why? I’ve heard people blame the Palm Springer’s (Palm Springian’s?) tendency to water too much, so I’m going to go with that, since they’re not here to defend themselves. Regardless of who’s to blame, we can see the increased humidity as nature’s way of inuring us to underwater living so that when the sea rises, we’ll be ready. If you want to go somewhere dry, I suggest Earth’s current driest place: Chile’s Atacama Desert. (Leave now to beat the rush.) Otherwise, please pardon our frizz.
Next question? advice@altaonline.com•
Gustavo Arellano is the author of Orange County: A Personal History and Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America. In 2025, Arellano was named a Pulitzer Prize finalist for his work as a columnist for the Los Angeles Times. He was formerly editor of OC Weekly, an alternative newspaper in Orange County, California, and penned the award-winning ¡Ask a Mexican!, a nationally syndicated column in which he answered any and all questions about America’s spiciest and largest minority. Arellano is the recipient of awards ranging from the Association of Alternative Newsweeklies Best Columnist to the Los Angeles Press Club President’s Award to an Impact Award from the National Hispanic Media Coalition, and he was recognized by the California Latino Legislative Caucus with a 2008 Spirit Award for his “exceptional vision, creativity, and work ethic.” Arellano is a lifelong resident of Orange County and is the proud son of two Mexican immigrants, one of whom came to this country in the trunk of a Chevy.
Stacey Grenrock Woods is a regular contributor to Esquire and a former correspondent for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. She writes and consults on various TV shows, and has a recurring role as Tricia Thoon on Fox’s Arrested Development. Her first book is I, California.
