Hot fuss

Nope, not listening to The Killers today. Just fussing about the heat.

The forecast gives us 106 degrees on this July day. The grass is dying a slow, horrible burning death and the lake has probably evaporated by now. I could go check -- it is right next door, after all -- but it's too freaking hot to go outside.

I need to make a run to Target for mouthwash and cotton balls and blank CDs, but I think I would get heat stroke on the way. Do you know how miserable it is to get into a car if it has been sitting in an unshaded Central Valley parking lot all morning? Torture, I tell you.

Women around here are wearing progressively less fabric on their bodies as the summer wears on. I don't judge them the way I used to. If it wouldn't look so silly with my chosen underclothing I'd have myself in a halter top, too, chub and all.

I can't even go swimming tonight (we have nice friends with money and swimming pools, lucky us) because of other commitments. Wah!

The utility bill? It is going to be outrageous. I'm betting it's more than $300. I don't even freaking care. I cranked the air down to 71 degrees last night and slept the best I have slept in weeks. Ahhhhhhh.

Oh, and did you know I am going to a family reunion in August? In Southern Utah? Where it might be even hotter than the Central Valley? Yes, this is the vacation I get to look forward to. Next time I am going to insist we all meet in Monterey. I bet you money they would thank me for it.

I spent my teenage years in Alaska. Sometimes people ask me if I miss it. Usually I say no. I liked it, but I don't yearn to go back. California makes me happy. Except on days like today. Bring on the cool, clear mornings, the bike rides ruined by afternoon rains, the canoe rides under the midnight sun, the chilly camping trips by the icy river. I'd suffer through the isolation and the mosquitos and the (ahem) interesting characters you find up north, if I could just get the heck out of this heat.