Coffee heat rising

Life in the Desert

Hotter Than the Hubs….

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HO-lee maquerel!  As we scribble — coming on to 6:00 p.m. — the thermometer in the shade of the back porch reads 109 degrees.

Garden spot, eh?

Just walked over to the park and back… Couldn’t take the Ruby, because the pavements — all of them — are too hot for her feet. Couldn’t make it all the way around, either: the air is too hot for the human!

Ugh! WHAT a place!!!!  What on earth possessed my parents to drag us to this corner of Hell, lo! these many years ago?

O’course…you could ask what on earth possesses me to stay here….

Just crazy, I guess.

Actually, it’s because my son is here. He has a job here. His dad is here. And he ain’t about to go anyplace else.

So…. I reckon as long as he stays in Phoenix, I’ll stay here too. If he decamps to some other garden spot, I may follow him. If he goes someplace where I can’t follow…well! Then I’ll be on my way to the higher altitudes of the hills around Tucson or else headed for Payson or Prescott (small towns in the plateaus above the desert) or…maybe straight back to San Francisco, where I belong.

Those exigencies don’t make me like this place a helluva lot more, though. It’s fine in the fall, the winter, and the early spring — climate-wise, anyway. The overall Los-Angelization is a trait I could do without, any time of the year or the day.

For the Luv of GAWD!!!!!

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KeeeeRAP!!!!!

Come the crack of dawn, the dawg is dragging me around the park on the usual morning Doggy-Walk. And what fun happens?

Yeah.

SHE DRAGS ME THROUGH AN ANT NEST!

The li’l ladies are out for their morning forage, so they’re swarming all over the place. I don’t notice them until it’s too late: now they’re all over my sandaled feet and legs, going bite bite bite bite-bite-bite BITE BITE BITE!!!

Hurt? Lemme tellya HURT.

We scurry away and I manage to bat most of the little gals off my skin. But now my feet and legs HURT LIKE THE DICKENS.

We turn around and race back toward the house, through the horrible SWAMPY morning. A classic nasty Arizona summer day is dawning, and the goddam place feels like the Okefenokee Swamp!  Holy crap, is it gawdawful out there!

Now my feet are covered in stinging, itchy ant bites. Coating them in calamine lotion doesn’t seem to be doing much good.

GAWD, but I hate Arizona!!!!!  What a horrid place to live. A thousand curses on my idiot parents for dragging us to this horrible, nightmare right-wing dump.

Yeah: part of their joy in this hole was its right-wing aspect. They abominated LIBarulism, which was one reason they were miserable in California. Barry Goldwater was holding forth here at the time. Believe it or not, I used to be a Goldwater Girl, one of his gingery little supporters.

Over time, the scales fell from my myopic eyes. Now you couldn’t get me anywhere near the right-wing crazies. Sorry if you’re one of them…but… Been there, done that!

What a horrible place this is, full of horrible people. If my son weren’t here, I’d be SOOOO FAR GONE from here!

Where would I be, if I had my choice?

I dunno. Not Hell, that’s for sure.

The east side of the San Francisco Bay Area, if I could afford it. But no doubt I couldn’t even begin to afford it.

My mother’s relatives lived in Berkeley, having settled there early in the last century, when it was reasonable to do so. I think their little bungalow is now valued at nigh unto a million dollars. Here’s one on the Web, just up the street from their place, at over two million dollars. But…it looks like that place is about twice the size of theirs.

So obviously, I couldn’t afford to live there today.

These days, I think I probably would consider the east side of Tucson. Weather’s decent there — because of the mild elevation, it’s not even too horrid in the summer. But there, too, unless you’re willing to go into a “townhouse” (which I believe means “apartment”), the prices are outta sight.

Since the Funny Farm is situated on the fringe of Phoenix’s highly upscale North Central district, presumably this place will be worth a fair amount when my son inherits it…. That’s assuming I can manage to live here long enough to be able to pass it to him but not so long as to be relegated to a prison for the elderly — and unfortunately, longevity is a thing among women on my mother’s side of the family.

So, I’ll probably be dragged off (kicking and screaming, you may be sure!) to one of the horrid old-folkeries that are now in vogue. Those places take everything you have in exchange for babysitting you through your dotage. And so…if I don’t drop dead fairly soon, presumably little or nothing will be left for my son.

What times we live in, eh?

Hotter Than the Hubs!

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It’s pouring rain, hot and sticky outside…and some poor wretch is out there weedwhacking a neighbor’s lawn! 

Yow! Talk about jobs you’re glad you don’t have….

At a little past 7:00, Ruby and I are back from the morning circumnavigation, just in time.

Despite the gray skies and now steady rain, our honored Weather Service tells us to expect “extreme heat” this afternoon. Temps are supposed to get up to 110 today, 114 on Thursday, and 116(!!!) on Friday.

That’s more than my air-conditioning system can handle. And far more than M’hijito’s aged system will beat back. He may have to come here or over to his dad’s place to live through the afternoons. And probably to sleep at night.

What an awful place. WHY do we live here?

Yeah: because our parents dragged us here, right?

California. Make that Northern California. That’s where I came from. And that’s where I belong!

Hotter Than the Proverbial Hubs…

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Back porch thermometer says it’s only 111° in the shade out there. Hm…and Wunderground, that fount of officialdom, says…?  Yeah: 111 degrees!!!

Blech!  How could we do without it? Let us count the 87 gerjillion ways…

Why, again, do I stay here????

Oh, yeah: because my Honored Son is here. 

Man!!! If he weren’t, you may be sure I’d be back in Northern California, whence I emanated lo! these many decades ago.

My parents dragged me to Arizona after my father retired from the Merchant Marine. They’d discovered Sun City, which they thought was just about THE most marvelous thing they’d ever heard of. So they bought a little house there (all the shacks out there are “little”), dumped me at the University of Arizona (say good-bye to UC Berkeley, dear…) and decamped to a cute little house directly under the flight path of the jet planes from Luke Air Force Base.

Garden spot.

Well. They thought it was, anyway. They were delighted with it.

😀  I was delighted to get away from it.

Anyway, the University of Arizona was OK, I guess. But Tucson sure as Hell wasn’t Berkeley. On the other hand, one could easily land a Phi Beta Kappa key while snoozing through one’s classes….

From the UofA I roamed back up to the Phoenix area and alit at Arizona State University, a monument to mediocrity, where before long I captured a Ph.D. Didn’t do much to launch a great career…..but at least it led me into a job that was better than answering the phones at the law firm that was supporting me.

These are the kinds of experiences that have led me to regard Arizona as the Land of Mediocrity. Only thing that’s NOT mediocre here, far’s I can see, is the heat. That, and the mediocrity itself. We do have first-rate mediocrity. 😀

Lovely Morning from Hell

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Yuch!!!!!  It’s a Rasty Nasty morning out there, come 7:00-ish. “Rasty Nasty” is what my father used to call Ras Tanura, the oil camp where we lived by the shore of the (hot! sticky!!) Persian Gulf while he worked as a harbor pilot out there.

One place where you do not want to spend any of your lifetime is Saudi Arabia. What a horrible place!

Ohh well…. The dawg and I are back in the house, having staggered down the west side of the park and back through the slab of the neighborhood that I like to call Lower Richistan. Made it back inside without passing out…that’s something, anyway.

By the time the Human finishes cooling off in the air conditioning, M’jito’s babysitters will be here. He’s hired these women to keep watch on me…and you can see the vast Nuisance Potential entailed in that. If you’re a person who’s accustomed to doing what you want, when you want, the LAST thing you want or need is people underfoot all day. Especially not strangers.

So this is going to convert life at home into misery at home. And I’ll tellya: I ain’t a-lookin’ forward to it.

Oh, well. At least Ruby and I managed to steal a few minutes of pleasurable meandering. Now we’re back home, waiting for the nuisances to show up.

Dayum!

Right now, what I most want is an hour of peace and quiet in the silence of my own home, with only a dawg to keep me company. If pests want to show up in an hour or two, that’s fine. But NOT NOW, dammit!!

Anyway, we’ll have three fans blowing — one in the kitchen and two in the family room — which at least should help to cool the poor creatures down. It is SO hot and SO humid out there that it takes you a good half-hour to cool down, even with the AC set at 80 and all the fans blasting.

This humidity is alien stuff here in Arizona, where the air is usually dry and crisp — heat or no heat. Hot and humid was indeed the weather we “enjoyed” in unlovely Saudi Arabia.

I hate this place. Ohhhhhh how I wanna goooo home!

And “home” is San Francisco!

WEATHER! WE’VE GOT WEATHER!!

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WOW! It’s 111 degrees in the shade of the back porch, and POURING rain.

No kidding! We’re in the middle of a gray, windy rainstorm, water gushing off the roof, and the thermometer out there literally does read 111 degrees.

WHAT a place, eh?

Well. When this kinda thing happens, it usually causes the searing summer heat to cool down into the 80s or so. And…well…that’s an improvement.

Whether the rain will stop enough to let Ruby the Corgi go out after she scarfs down her dinner remains to be seen. But we have an hour or two before we need to consider that eventuality.

If the rain stops, we can take her for her usual walk and dump her here and there around the ‘Hood. But if not, she’ll be doing her Thing in the backyard.

Which is fine: one way or the other, the Human has to pick it up.

But…oh, my! What a storm. The wind is carrying on like a banshee.

Welp…tomorrow we’ll have a fine mess to clean out of the pool. It’ll be several days before Pool Dude is due, so the Human will have to skim and vacuum up the debris.

Yay. I can…uhm…hardly wait.