Coffee heat rising

Why?

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Why do people steal things out of people’s yards?

Just discovered that someone made off with the full-force plastic/fabric cover for my gas barbecue. 

“Just discovered” because it’s going to rain tonight, for the first time in Gawd Only Knows how long. Goddammit. So that makes the first time in G.O.K. how long since I’ve really needed to cover the ‘cue with a generously sized waterproof cover, made for the purpose and for the grill’s size.

I’ve been using a lightweight Home Depot fabric cover. leaving the heavy-duty number for…heavier duty. The lighter one keeps the dust off, but it won’t protect the grill from serious rain or hail. So this evening, having found that the I-mean-business cover was GONE, I had to jury-rig a sturdier cover out of large black plastic garbage bags. Then weigh it down with rocks so it doesn’t blow off when the wind comes up in a typical Arizona storm. One of which, this being mid-summer, we’re likely to enjoy tonight.

It’s hotter than the Hubs out there…so throwing myself around trying to come up with something to protect the BBQ equipment was less than perfectly fun. If I knew which one of my worthies stole that cover, he’d be fired forthwith.

But of course, I have no way of knowing. It may not even have been one of my regulars, but some one-trip repairman who was called to work on the A.C. or the plumbing or the pool equipment….or whatnot.

Y’know…what this says is that whenever ANY service or repair guy is here, I need to stand nearby and watch him as he works. All the way until he goes out the gate and gets back in his truck.

Jayzuz! What HAS this country come to?

Hotter Than the Hubs…

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7:30 p.m.: 100 degrees in the shade of the back porch, with high overcast.

Make that just “on the back porch,” since we’re past the time of shade. We’re comin’ on to dusk: and it is, yes, one. hundred. degrees out there.

Ugh. And tell me again: WHY do we persist in living here?????

Red-Hot or Nailed Down….

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That was what my parents used to say about the locals where we lived in Saudi Arabia, on the shore of the Persian Gulf: “If it’s not red-hot or nailed down, they’ll steal it.”

Uh huh.

Well, now you can say that about the Yankee set.

Honest to gawd. ANYTHING that you carelessly set down out of your sight or out of your house is GONNA get stolen.

***

This afternoon a UPS guy showed up with a package.

My hip still being somewhat spavined, I hobbled out to the curb on my hiking stick. It looked kinda like this…  Or this…

Got back inside the house. Went to pick up the stick, to put it away…and… Yeah. Gone. Nowhere to be found.

Couple of hours later: I still haven’t found it. 

So I must have dropped it by the guy’s truck and he took it, or else I dropped it on the ground out there and some damn passer-by grabbed it. WhatEVER: it’s gone. 

Replacing it via Amazon will cost about $30 to $50, and nothing there looks as nice as the one I had.

The Sprouts on the far side of Main Drag West carries them — or it did, last I noticed. But my gawd! As we scribble, the temp in the shade of the back porch is 103…and that’s at 6:30 in the evening!

If Sprouts is selling the things for less than Amazon does, it might be worth hiking to the store through the heat. Unfortunately, their website says nothing about canes or walking sticks or anything like that. And I sure as Hell don’t wanna plow all the way over there through the heat, only to find they no longer carry them.

So…. Helle’s belles. Looks like the path of least resistance is gonna be to pay through the schnozzola to buy a new one from Amazon.

Dayum!

Glub!

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Hot! AND muggy. What a gummy, awful day! Pushing 90 degrees at 7:15 a.m., in 39% humidity.

Oh! There’s pool dude…speakin’ of jobs you’re glad you don’t have! How he manages to clean pool after pool after pool in this hot, sticky weather, I can’t even imagine. Just cleaning my own pool is almost more than I can cope with: on a cool, dry day.

That guy is one of the crew that makes it possible to stay in my home…and not have to move into some baby-sitting old-folkerie.

Hmmmm….  Let’s see…how many folks DOES it take to keep me here?

1. Pool Dude
2. Cleaning Lady from Heaven
3, 4, 5. Gerardo and his crew
6. Plumber
7. Electrician
8. Uber driver

At least! And that’s not counting my son, who does the work (and the thinking) of about 10 people.

No doubt there are more. Fair number of baby-sitters, eh?

Don’t know when it’s EVER been so hot-and-muggy. What a nasty morning! Definitely not a day that you’d like to spend working outdoors. 

RELIEVED…

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…of running around in the sun!  Whew!!!

WonderAccountant and I planned to get together this afternoon: meeting at her place. This would entail my having to walk over there…through 108-degree heat, according to the back porch thermometer.

Well. Ruby the Corgi and I have already traipsed through the heat, thankyouverymuch, and I can tellya: assuredly I don’t want to walk across even the one blacktop road between here and the WonderAccountants’ place!

Mercifully, when I called to arrange this forthwith, she suggested we put it off to another day.

YES!!!!!

Not to say HOOOOORAAAHHHH!

Yah: this was a chore that I absolutely positively was NOT in the mood for today. Any task that involves anything even remotely resembling math (of any variety) is over my furry little head. That’s why I hire WonderAccountant to handle my books, and it’s why M’hijito rides his stallion behind her to check on it and keep himself aware of what’s going on.

So: that was escaped.

And so was the (very short) trip across the broiling asphalt between our houses. Ugh!

Honestly, I’m coming to dislike living in Arizona more and more as the seasons turn. Spring and summer here, taken together, form a variety of Hell, so unholy is the heat. Just walking across the street entails armoring your feet with thick-soled shoes.

Where would I go, if I could escape this place?

Well. The San Francisco Bay Area would be my first choice. Either Parkmerced, where my mother and I lived when we first came back from Arabia and my father (a Merchant Marine deck officer) shipped out of the East Bay, or Berkeley, where my mother’s family lived.

Of course, I couldn’t afford to live in either of those places…but it’s something to daydream about. 😀

Failing that? Well…here in Arizona: we have Prescott, an upscale college town to the north of us. Or the Oro Valley, a suburb of Tucson.

Otherwise? In general: meh! There aren’t many venues that are better than this place. Summers here suck, but the rest of the year, the climate is lovely. The district where I live is solidly middle-class, ringed with pleasing stores in easy walking distance of my house.

Truth to tell, I’d just as soon live out the rest of my life right here!

Balmy Arizona Day!

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Yeah: if you think this place is livable, you ARE balmy! 😀

No kidding: as we scribble — at quarter to 11 in the morning — the back porch thermometer reads 111 degrees. 

Sheeee-ut!!!!! This place is almost as hellish as Saudi Arabia…a venue whose weather defined Hell.

Just back from a stroll around the ‘Hood with Ruby. 

Nooooo….of course I wouldn’t have taken her out if I’d realized we were headed into an oven.

But by the time that reality dawned on me, we were halfway around our course. So we had to keep going: turning back would have been six of one, half-a-dozen of the ‘tother.

We did make it back to the Funny Farm. But…now my hair is drenched, crown to collar. Shirt is wet with sweat, too. But…I ain’t changing clothes or washing hair until the fans here in the family room get the body cooled down.

Today’s balmy climate is reminiscent of what we endured — for ten endless years — in Saudi Arabia. Soggy, brain-banging heat IS summer on the shore of the Persian Gulf.

At least here, the phenomenon will disappear after a few days. It’ll still be hot, but it won’t be steam-room hot. 😀

Gawd, but I hate this kind of Saudi weather.

Seriously: HOT and WET was what we endured for nine seemingly endless years on that shore of the Persian Gulf.

How my mother, an Upstate New York girl, survived that monstrous interlude puzzles me to this day. She didn’t, really: by the time we left that garden spot, she was hideously sick. Amoebic dysentery, as it developed. She spent weeks in a hospital back in San Francisco and…really…never fully recovered from it.

Passed a small crew of lawn dudes, sitting in the shade of a tree partaking of liquids and food. Stopped to chat.

How the HELL do those guys survive working in this unholy heat and humidity? They must be made of asbestos!

At any rate, if I didn’t have Gerardo on the string already, I might have inquired as to whether they wanted a job.

WonderAccountant wants me to go over to her office this afternoon. Why? That escapes me. Seriously: after that stroll, my brain is SO FRIED that I can’t remember why we’re getting together.

Really, it’s just not that hot: high clouds have now cooled us down to only 100 degrees on the back porch. But it’s so humid out there that it feels like lovely Saudi Arabia, on the shore of the Persian Gulf. Humidity is 32% just now. Chance of rain: 34%.

Ugh! WHY do I stay in this unholy place?

Pleeeze, God! Take me back to San Francisco, where I belong!