Close up Hands Tea x

Sit a bit and hear some observational stories I’ve been steeping.

Hell hath no fury like a woman in the desert

It’s hot.  The cheerful blinking display on the bank building in the center of my town calmly let everyone who drove by today know that temperatures reached 109 degrees.  Stinkin’ little LED is red for a reason.  With the pavement all undulating, heat-wavy in front of me, all I could hear in my head is the Wicked Witch of the West crying about how she’s melting.  Well, of course she is – she lives in the west.  People never really specified to me growing up, but I’m pretty sure her official coordinates were southwesterly.  We’re all melting over here, lady.  Stop your whining.


Poor woman.  But I know the reason her sister is so perky, fresh and good-natured… the woman lives in the north where the temperature is at least 30 degrees cooler than here.  Even when you northern folks talk about “hot”, I have to chuckle to myself (I’m alone a lot.  I do that often anyway).  Most places 30 miles north of here complain about 85 degrees being a scorcher worthy of water cooler conversation.  Well, I’m sure it is up there where the trees are still green mid-July!  We can’t even get the birds to hang out in what’s left of our foliage here in the desert.  There’s not a peep outside, except the sizzle of the driveway where my car’s air-conditioning condensation has dripped down.


The other summer time benefit non-desert folks have going for them is that their “heat waves” are just that: momentary waves, where the heat rolls in and out over the course of the summer months.  Here in the high desert of Southern California, the heat comes in like an unpleasant, ill-tempered, elderly aunt that you just have to tolerate because she won’t go away.  She might be mean and full of hot air, but every now and then she provides you with an evening that makes you smile (you know, that occasional evening barbecue where your skin is warm, the drinks are cold and for a moment you’re dazzled by the event, overall) – the old lady comes through now and then.


Personally, I like winter best.  You will never hear me whimpering when the desert air drops to near-freezing in January.  In fact, I welcome it.  There is something to be said about the ability to add another layer of warmth when you’re feeling a chill, choosing from items as ingenious as silk underwear to wool gloves and whatnot.  And don’t even get me started about the healing benefits of a pot of hot tea.  There’s no relief from heat in the evil summer months – you can only remove so much clothing before there are laws against it and even so, no matter what, you’re still not cool or comfortable!


Even sleeping in the summer heat is a tortuous event worthy of the finest prison camps.  No wonder people are afraid of hell.  The concept of spending an eternity with unpleasant, evil people in a place where there’s no break from the belching, bowels of furnaces heating the place up to 120 degrees Fahrenheit and higher?  Lord, almighty.  Oh, and you know those people have to smell worse than a nasty package of roasting chicken past it’s due date – even the guys on the city bus get pretty rank once the temperature hits 100+.  Hell is hell on so many levels, besides the heat, it hurts my brain to think about.  Thank goodness there are books that give the answers to staying away from such a nasty fate!


I’m sorry to admit, but one of the first cool days we have around here is Halloween.  I realize there are those that find the holiday distasteful (subject matter and begging for sweet treats and all that), but where I live it’s one of the first days where the afternoon is miserably hot, but by nightfall the kids have to wear turtlenecks under their fairy costumes and jackets over their ghost and mummy gear.  Maybe that’s just a reminder to be thankful of our time here and mindful of a time yet to come.  Honestly, I’d rather be sitting in heaven with a parka and earmuffs, straining to hear the choir of angels singing, than sweating it out elsewhere with some handsome devil at my side whose antiperspirant will never be strong enough for temperatures over 95 degrees.  Heaven help me.

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