A friend just sent this link, which tells of our woes in the no rain department. All you have to do these days is go outside the air conditioned house to slowly begin sinking into the pavement around you.
I walked a very long block in Corpus Christi about lunch today and wasn't sure I was going to make it to the other end. The air is suffocating, the heat beating down on your head is like someone pounding a 10-pound hammer right on top of your head. Your feet begin dragging very soon, like you're crossing the Saharan wilderness. The city around you seems to spin and spin, scenes from normal, workaday world views passing in front of you like a kaleidoscope. The end of the block starts receding before you, faster than you can walk, even though you pick up your pace, it is moving away, away, away.
When I got to the next mall, I headed straight for the first door in sight at the J.C. Penney storefront. As I got there, I was intercepted by three young women, all of them fluttering anxiously about. They blocked my entry and I was asked if I wanted to pay a bill or something they could do for me while one of them spurted out that the store had a possible liability that some customer might slip and fall, so they'd closed the entire store. Closed the entire store! I didn't think I could stand another moment, but I turned, muttering not-very-nice things under my breath, staggering back into the blistering parking lot, weaving toward the sidewalk, making my best shot at shaving any step I could from the remainder of the trip I'd started rapidly and blithely.
Sweat was pouring from me as I rounded the corner by the STOP sign. I was greeted by front-end loaders and hydraulic-assist digging machines, lines of yellow tape and (at last) a small sign that was propped up against a wall not 200 feet in front of me that said in small letters: Mall Entrance. I kept my feet moving, trying not to shuffle, knowing that would sap even more strength from the reserve whose gauge was on EMPTY!!
I entered the mall side entrance, gasping for the cool air that now surrounded me, looking for someone who might know where I was supposed to find the business I sought. I'll spare you the walk down the WHOLE LENGTH OF THE MALL and the quick ascent of the escalator. I found the business and used up three whole paper towels to mop up the sweat before I could begin to enjoy the cool air there.
It is hot in south Texas. 101F here at 5 p.m.!
Comments welcomed.
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Wow, that traffic cone looks like it was in a kiln. Seriously, that is how temperature is determined during a firing: the kiln shuts off when the ceramic cone slumps from the heat.
ReplyDeleteI'm ready to do some rain dances--at least in my head!
Yeah, I've seen those cones. But the ones I saw were eyeballed to determine temps in the kiln.
ReplyDeleteWe had a serious shower yesterday. But that's all it was...just a shower.
When I lived in Africa, candles melted without being lit. They looked like that cone but on a smaller scale. The one consolation in all that heat was no humidity in my part of the country. It was tolerable.
ReplyDeleteI wish you cooler weather and lots of rain.
@ Kat
ReplyDeleteThanks. Forecast has **possibilities** this week. We're all excited! (Except our son and his teen mission group are here this week, so they are NOT so excited about the prospects of rain every/any day, as that may interfere with their helping a family to finish the house they started building but couldn't finish.)
hey you -- thought I'd read this as, except for the rain I suppose, I sympathize. The 14 years away from this heat/humidity did me in.
ReplyDeleteI like your phrasing -- the girls outside of JC Penney, the small mall sign, the wave of heat hitting you...take care.
Thanks...I try to keep my speech picturesque, just like I learned to do by reading decades of Reader's Digest issues...before I'd had enough of it!
ReplyDelete