They’ve been talking about it for a week. They = weathermen & townsfolk.
The heat wave crossing Arizona.
We here in central Arizona — as well as northern, i.e., Flagstaff — don’t get socked like Phoenix.
For example, it’s about 2:30 in the afternoon.
My outdoor thermometer reads 110 (43 C).
Weather.com says its 102 (38 C). Nickels-and-dimes difference.
My indoor thermometer reads a whopping 100 degrees (37 C.)! The nature of mobile homes. They trap the heat and cold.
Meanwhile, in Phoenix — which everyone immediately and incorrectly thinks is Arizona — it’s 117 (47.2 C.). Cooling down from high of 118 (47.7)!
Don’t mind the heat. To a point. I’ve lived all around in all sorts of climates — albeit never the extremes of Alaska’s it-never-gets-dark-summer. Including spots that are supremely hot and humid and Phoenix-like scorchers for 3 months straight.
So 110 for a few days doesn’t phase me.
Plus I’m made of indeterminable grit. A hard life on the rocks fighting for survival does NOT a wuss create! Any heat discomfort, I suck up.
But I’m not stupid. Not gonna go out and build a house in these temps. I take it easy. Hydrate. Ooops! — the beer at my side, not exactly hydration!
Heat to me is like labor (childbirth). Resistance is futile. Only makes it worse, more painful, slows everything down.
Go with the flow. Be one with the pain of contractions. Be one with the heat. Let it roll off like water off the duck’s back.
This heatwave is short-lived. They say.
In a week, it’ll be only 112 (44.4 C) instead of 118 (47.7 C), in Phoenix; where I’m at, 97 (36.1 C) instead of 102 (38.8 C.).
No denying summer’s gaining inroads after an extended winter & sucky spring.
Here’s what I know and fear. Summer’ll come and go in a blink of an eye. Just as we’ve stashed away the winter bedding and clothing, we’ll be pulling it all back out.
We’ll be scratching our heads: “Where’d the year go?!?” as we start buying up bags of Halloween candy, booking flights for Thanksgiving, running up the credit cards for Christmas gifts usually not needed.
The cycle of life.
I could wax sentimental for a moment. Share on the sadnesses and sorrows of being closer to life’s end than beginning. The weariness that crept up on me just this year, one shy of 60. I could make this post philosophical. Then it’d become a book. Or two!
For brevity, best to say simply that summer is here! The HEAT is here in Arizona.
I like it. Just as it is. Driving my home temp up to 100 (37.7 C.) (while the 20-year-old guy neighbor runs his evaporative cooler 24-7, what a wimp!). Scalding the dirt so’s you can’t even cross it barefoot without sprinting.
The heat reminds me: Just Be. Just Be With the Hotness. Resisting is Futile. Only Makes it Worse. Like Labor.
Just Be With It.
Were that I could apply that very wisdom to all areas of my life all the year ’round!
Heat gets a bad rap. Americans make too much of it. Dramatize like the world’s end is upon us.
No grit. No resilience. No Will to Survive. Only Whining at a Smidge of Discomfort.
Heat is humbling, methinks. Mother Nature reminding us that we’re mortal and sometimes that means being hot and sometimes cold. It’s the way of the world.*
Of life. Go with the Flow. Resistance is Futile. Only Makes it Worse.
Heat the Humbler indeed.
(*global warming’s an f-ing hoax)