Coffee heat rising

Dispatches from Hell

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!

What is WITH people??????

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G*ddammit! I just went out in back to tidy things up, and there I discover some moron has dragged my gas barbecue OUT INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE GRAVEL-COVERED YARD and effin’ LEFT IT THERE!

It’s out of reach of the gas canister, so I can’t even turn it on to grill a piece of hamburger.

And it’s way, way, WAY too heavy for me to heave around!

What the F*CK is the goddam MATTER with people?

Seriously: WHY would a person do anything so stupid?

The only thing you can figure is deliberate maliciousness. Haul the thing away from where it belongs and make the Bitch Homeowner drag it back all by her birdbrained little self.

Goddammit. Now I’ve got to find a male neighbor or worker to come over here and haul the thing back into place.

If I knew which yard worker or pool worker pulled this stunt, I’d call them on the phone and FIRE them. RIGHT NOW.

But of course, I have no idea. We have…

  • Pool Dude
  • Three or four landscape maintenance guys
  • Possibly some guy I called to work on the Que (don’t recall just now)

Goddammit!!!
And further goddammit: the link to the ‘Cue image suddenly doesn’t work!

******trying again*******

Okay….I shanghaied the neighbor —  who works out of his home — to come over and drag the grill back into place. Being male and pale — and about 100 pounds bigger than me — he was able to do this without too much trouble. Other, of course, than the interruption in his day.

Anyway, he was kind enough to traipse over here with me, reposition the BBQ, and make sure it works. It does seem to be operating the way it’s supposed to (…i hope), and so in a few minutes — after my rage settles down — I’ll go out and grill a piece of salmon and some frozen French fries.

Wish I knew which worker caused this little snafu. He’d be looking for another customer… But I haven’t a clue. 

“Hotter Than a By-Gawd!”

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LOL! That was one of my father’s favorite turns of phrase:

  • Hotter than a by-gawd
  • Hotter than a two-dollar cookstove
  • Hotter than a three-dollar pistol
  • Hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk

On and on…. He was a good Texas boy, a dyed-in-the-wool Southerner, and he had a suitcase full of little sayings like that.

😀

Who knows what he’d pull out today, if he were still among us! Thermometer in the shade of the back porch reads 103.  And yeah: he’d regard that as passing warm. Wunderground says we’re supposed to reach 109 today, though.

Me: just back from a dog-free stroll around the ‘Hood. No doubt not my wisest move of the day…. 😮

Probably ought to take a shower to cool down. But…well…I’m too lazy just now to regard cleaning the bathtub afterward as a lovely way to spend time this morning. And o’course, you fail to wipe down the plastic walls after a shower…at your peril. A giant scrubbing job is NOT what I want to tuck into the cards.

Meandering up the sidewalk, I passed workmen at a couple of houses — guys who looked like they were engaged in carpentry or painting. LORDIE! Can you imagine doing that kind of physical work in 110-degree heat?

And yes, it soon will be 110°…at least. Just now, it’s only 10:30 in the morning!

WhatEVER possessed my parents to drag us to Arizona???

Well, they thought Sun City was about the greatest innovation the human race ever devised: “No kids screaming outside my window when I’m trying to take a nap,” my father intoned, with pleased awe.

Adding to that bit of charm, Sun City was then and is now as whitey-white as  you can get. To my parents, that was a positive trait of the first rank.

That was in 1962: sixty-four years ago! 

Even today: an African-American friend of mine — a business professional — had the brazen nerve to buy a house out there. He was literally HOUNDED out of the place. Within six months, he sold up and moved out.

I suggested he buy the house for sale across the street from the Funny Farm. He declined. Apparently felt moving his blackness into our neighborhood was not a kind thing to do. Or maybe he didn’t care to dodge bullets flying down from the slum to the north of us…  😀

We are, after all, parked in lovely Sunnyslope: a crime-ridden slum of the first water.

No kidding. Parts of it — such as our neighborhood — are on the high side of upper-middle class. They qualify as North Central Phoenix, a tony district, indeed. But get six blocks to the north of us, and…hang onto your (hard-)hat!

Lordie! What a place!

Egad!! No Doggy-Walks Here…

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Get this! Wunderground says today’s high is supposed to be 111 degrees. You saw that right: a hundred and eleven degrees! 

Where does this damn place think it is? Saudi Arabia?

As we scribble, the back-porch thermometer reads 110 degrees…in the shade of the north-facing back porch. A covered porch. A ventilated covered porch…

Holeee sheee-ut!

We do have salmon and shrimp and accouterments that can be cooked up on the barbecue today. But tomorrow…well… Tomorrow I’ll have to walk(!!!) to the Albertson’s or the Sprouts to restock the supplies. And that will be a challenge.

I may see if I can get the neighborhood Uber driver to tote me over there…but…whaddaya bet that guy won’t feel any enthusiasm for getting on the road as dawn cracks?  And I sure don’t wanna be slamming around in the heat.

Let’s see…what time do these worthy retailers open?

  • Albertson’s:  6:00 a.m.
  • Sprouts: 7:00 a.m.
  • El Rancho: 6:00 a.m.

Hmmmm…  The El Rancho is closer. But the Albertson’s is a far better store for a middle-class shopper.

If I leave the house at 5:45, I could get to the store just as they’re opening. Grab the loot. Pay up. Gallop out the door…and maybe get back here by 7:00 a.m.

Or so…

Actually, that might not be too bad. Except that I don’t wanna start charging around at that hour. And toting groceries six or eight blocks through questionable territory doesn’t sound like much fun.

Also, one thing I’ve discovered over the kerjillion years that I’ve lived here: there’s a route through the neighborhood that comes out on the back side of the Albertson’s shopping center. That would allow me to get down there and yet dodge the jerks screaming obscenities at me.

Hm. They open at 6:00…okayyy… I might get back here by 7:00 — surely no later than 7:30. It would still be hot outside, but not yet hotter than Hell.

Dare not walk down there in the evening. For one thing, it’ll be hotter than the Hubs, all right: after a full day of Arizona sun blasting. But more to the point: whatever the weather, it’s just not safe. Too many jerks, assholes, and predators roam around between here and that shopping center.

Been there, done that, ain’t doin’it again!!

Really: what a place to live. If my son weren’t just down the road, I’d pull up stakes and head for either north Scottsdale or (un)lovely Sun City. Sure wouldn’t stay in central or north Phoenix: it truly isn’t safe.

I don’t wanna live in Sun City. Been there, done that, ain’t doin’ it again. BUT…at least in a ghetto for old folks, you don’t have a$$holes screaming obscenities at you as you walk to the nearest grocery store.

Soggy Doggy Day!

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Yuch!!!  It is SO HOT and SO WET out there, it feels like horrible Saudi Arabia, where we lived on the shore of the Persian Gulf. Wet, hot, and miserable.

To gild that soggy lily, war planes are busily roaring in and out of Luke Air Force Base. Nevvermind that they’re 20 miles to the west of us. We still get serenaded with the ominous melody of World War III, on its way to us: ggggRRRROOOAAAAARRRRRRR!

My mother used to sit on her patio, partaking her morning coffee to the melody of those damn warplanes. Ohhhhhh, she would coo. It’s the sound of fweedom! 

Yeah, Mom: the sound of Death, comin’ for you.

Why ARE people so stupid, anyway?

Ohhh well.  Ruby and I made it back to the house, finally, through air so thick you could practically swim through it. I’m now so hot and miserable, about all I can manage is sitting down and pounding on a keyboard. Had to put a throw over the back of the chair, to keep from wrecking the leather upholstery with the sweat I don’t feel like washing off myself right this minute.

I never could understand why my mother thought that jet warplane racket was some kind of sweet, patriotic melody.

Never did understand why she didn’t grasp the fact that the “melody” was a funeral ode to every civilian within nuclear bomb distance of our balmy home.

But then…I never did grasp what she thought was soooo wonderful about dreary, racist Sun City. Guess we just weren’t on the same wavelength.

Ugh!!!

Well, I’d better get up and brew a pot of coffee, before I fall down face-first on the tile floor….

And Now…WTF????

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Yesterday was a true, certifiable Day from Hell. Seriously…by bed-time, I knew that if I weren’t trapped here by owning the damn house outright and by the piddling retirement income and by the craving to live vaguely near my son, I would be SOOOO OUTTA PHOENIX!

But now…we have this morning. WTF?????

  • The weather is clear and more or less temperate. On the warm side, but highly tolerable.
  • The peripheral neuropathy: present, but tolerable in intensity.
  • The dawg: prancing along happily.
  • The hole-in-the-ground-into-which-to-pour-money: functioning normally this morning.
  • The toilet: now working normally.
  • The house: spotlessly clean after Wonder-Cleaning-Lady’s ministrations.
  • The laptop computer: apparently working normally again.
  • Outside temperature in the shade of the back porch at 7:30 a.m.: only 100 degrees.

Weird. 

The hound and the human got out the door early enough to circumnavigate the park without melting in the heat.

The babysitters M’hijito hired to ride herd on the Crazy Old Bat have not surfaced (thank Gawd!), or else they came by here while we were doggy-walking and simply ignored the note I left on the door for them, asking them to wait a few minutes until I could get back to the house. Good riddance, say I!

So…I dunno why the Manifestations from Hell have settled down. And I ain’t askin’!  Just hope they STAY settled down for awhile!