Torridity Town

I believe someone made a grievous mistake when summer was created; no novitiate or god in their right mind would make a season akin to hell on purpose. Someone should be fired.
~ Michelle Franklin 

I love, love, LURV spring! Summer? It depends. How hot is it?

I just canNOT bear the heat. When temperatures crest the upper 80s and then surge into the 90s, I wilt along with the once proud and upright sunflowers. Yup, just like!

On these blazing hot, steamy summer days, I’m certain that the word enervation was crafted just for moi. Possibly lassitude as well.

It was 90º and humid as Hell just before a gully washer. Donna was sinking into an unconquerable lassitude, a level of enervation that not even a blast from Mr. Freeze’s ray gun could chill out.

See?!

After my carnival years, much of it spent in the sweaty South, what I wanted more than anything was a crisp cool breeze coming off the ocean to the north – way north. I, seriously now, ached for blissful summer nights where a light quilt was an absolute necessity. So much so that, in my last season on the road, I bought a cheap air conditioner and put it in the window of the tiny truckbed camper in which I was living. I’d crank it to the max, put on my eight-tracks of More Songs About Buildings and Food and Aladdin Sane (volume set to 11 of course), crawl into my sleeping bag and pretend it was October in New England not Texas.

I don’t know how my friend Jenny does it. She lives in Phoenix where 110º days are not unusual AT ALL. That’s just plain painful – excruciatingly so. I suppose, in winter, she wonders the same thing about me. How can you possibly survive AND thrive in 20º snowy weather! Ya know, sometimes that's a puzzler for me too.

Ten and I had a long sit on the seawall steps at high tide yesterday. That's when the lovely, chilly waves slosh right up and over. I can simply sit there – don't need to expend an ounce of energy (that I don't actually have anyway) and cool off. If my laptop was waterproof, I could have sat there, working, all day.

Finally, late in the night after a big, fat thunder storm, the heat broke. It’s funny/not funny – during the big booms, Coco vigilantly sits just outside our bedroom door. She’s clearly On Duty and can’t be moved – not even into my comforting, protective arms.

What up? I suspect, as she’s not hiding under the bed, she’s fiercely guarding us from the malicious and marauding thunder.

Could be!