Jayzuz! THIRTY-SEVEN PERCENT humidity! Temp: 111º … “feels like 114º,” saith Wunderground. Supposed to chill down to a crisp 106º some while after 6:00 p.m., after which time we supposedly will get a thunderstorm.
Ahhhh, lovely Arizona! What a garden spot! Just now, over a third of the air out there is…water.
Can you imagine my father dragging us to this place?
Actually, my mother rather liked it. She used to go on and on about how she loved the sound of the accursed fighter jets roaring out of Luke Air Force Base (just down the road from where we lived) and how wonderful the weather was and…yeah. On and on. Which goes to show, I reckon, that some folks can adapt themselves to anything.
If my son weren’t here, I wouldn’t stay in this garden spot.
Where would I go?
San Francisco, whence my family emanated. My maternal grandmother’s family lived in the East Bay. After my mother’s paternal grandmother, situated in upstate New York, died of diabetes, my mother was shipped to the California relatives.
This was a lucky break for her. The New York set, who had assumed custody of my mother, were dirt farmers. The California clan, though, was fairly affluent. Not zillionaires by any means, but comfortably set.
Getting shipped off to the Californians after the New York grandmother died was one of the great lucky breaks of her life. Suddenly she was riding to school on a school bus (she told me she’d never seen such a thing Back East!) and eating three squares and wearing decent clothes.
Eventually, my mother did come to regard Berkeley as “home.” And though I wouldn’t go that far, I will say…I could happily live the rest of my life there. Well. If I could persuade the son to move up there, too! 😀