I was reminded again last night that life is unpredictable and that it can be so fragile. Every single day is a gift for us to use.
I received a medical update on a friend who unexpectedly had a heart attack about three weeks ago, but other issues have been uncovered during the course of treatment, and she is not expected to recover. This is a woman who acknowledged to me a few months ago that her life had been all about miracles. I don't know that there is going to be one this time.
I still have a message on my voice mail from her.
We seldom know when something is going to change our lives forever, be it an illness, a death, an event. Oh, yeah, there are predictable things that will change lives, like marriage, divorce, pregnancy, but I'm talking about things largely uncontrollable that happen.
I am so grateful for what I have, for the people in my life who I love and who love me back. Once again I am trying to make the most of every day, to do what I can to move things in a good direction and to expand my horizons, to provide for 'the order' of our household. I try to actively practice gratitude and right living.
That's really all I can do. All anyone can do. Just be aware.
***************
It's just been too hot to even think, much less write. July temps shot up to 116 on our front porch recently, and we had a streak of 100-degree-plus days where I felt like a mole with blinds drawn and the air conditioner running full tilt. Because the humidity was more than 20 percent and the temps were over 105-106, the swamp cooler just wasn't adequate to cool things down in here -- that happens most every July and into August.
But we've got a rare cool snap right now and my windows are open. It's not even supposed to make 80 tomorrow, with a good possibility of storms -- which, of course, bring with them the fear of lightning-started fires.
It is a welcome respite and a reminder that summer is on the way out. It'll be October, likely, before things cool and rain comes back, but come it will, and there are reports of an El Nino year, which would increase the likelihood of adequate rainfall this winter. I don't want floods, but rain would be great.
My poor little garden doesn't much like the heat, and has really struggled between deer-munching, water service employees not turning the water back on, and a broken soaker hose, and also some sort of black bug or disease that leaves a black, sticky residue and kills the plants. My cost per tomato may be pretty high this year! But I'm already planning to cover the garden in manure and newspaper over the winter, which should give the soil a boost for next year. The rhubarb is looking great -- but the rest of it seems stressed.
I've gotten things cleared out inside, mostly, and have been walking at least a mile most days on our new treadmill -- yes, once we realized that 6 a.m. was going to be pretty dark in the winter and during our heat wave was still pretty warm for exercise, we broke down and bought a treadmill. Actually it works well -- Tony gets on it before he goes to work, and I walk sometime during the day. I've watched a dvd and also listened to some podcasts, so it goes quickly. And it's helping. My hips, back and knees don't hurt anymore and I don't feel so creaky. It also is helping my poor balance. (and how I hate to admit that exercise DOES help...)
Now to just keep it up.
***************
I don't feel very profound these days. I'm just focused on each day, doing something for the good of the order, tending the things I need to do, meeting the few deadlines that I still have, cooking good-for-us food, doing something to sort out the clutter most days. The girls still have their individual issues, but largely I'm uninvolved, since I know I can't really do anything to either move them ahead or solve them permanently. I've cut way back on asking questions (pat on my back!), partly because it does me no good to worry about things I can't do anything about. I'm trying to be open to new possibilities, but mostly I'm just taking care of old business. That's okay for now, I think.
I still read every day, but nothing that just grabs me by the throat -- newspapers, magazines mostly. I want a couple of books that capture me with their plots and make me want to read all day long, and I can't even find anything on Amazon that seems to meet that criteria right now.
We're watching movies and tv series most nights -- but the series are on HBO and Showtime, mostly. Mindless stuff, tv, for the most part, especially the stuff we're watching. That too is not necessarily bad.
I don't like summer very much -- never have. It's hot, it's sticky, it's something to get through until the weather turns cool again and we can be outside without feeling so uncomfortable, and the nights call for blankets to snuggle into. No, I don't want snow either....
***************
A year ago this week R and I were driving from Alabama to California. She said yesterday that it didn't seem that long ago, but when I think about this year, it has been a long, hard haul for both of us, and some of the issues are still very present. I hope this second year will be better.
Showing posts with label heat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heat. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Playing catch-up
Damage to the garden was not disastrous as I'd first thought. Most of the plants are coming back, and the deer nicely thinned the seedlings. I should have lettuce by the end of the week, although with the hot weather we're having now it may bolt before I ever get it to the table.
So we planted tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, and are experimenting with cantaloupe, watermelon and pumpkins. I've replaced soaker hoses and hung prayer flags which flutter nicely in the breezes. We'll hope for a generous bounty.
*************
Mother's Day came and went without a post from me, although I'd started a draft. I'd put a photo of mother, my brother and me on my Facebook page that was taken just three weeks before she died in 2005. It is hard to believe she's been gone for going on four years now, and that this winter, my dad will have been dead for 10 years.
But I see them in my own reflection: in my fine, greying hair, in my hands that show a delicate network of aging skin and a few arthritic lumps, in my smile. I hear them in my head -- how mother always said she liked listening to the silence rather than music or television (as do I these days), how they preferred ice water to sodas or lemonade, for instance.
I think of them at my age: mother retired at 60 from teaching because daddy had retired at 65, and they spent the next 10 or so years traveling and playing. More than that, too, but those were probably the prime years, although even those saw some health issues for both of them.
That's not quite in the cards for us yet. Tony is in full hammer-down mode as he goes in early and stays late working on a new product release. I've finished up a few stories, but so much of what I was doing has dried up, at least for now, for various reasons -- the main publication I was working on has ended, and I'm just not sure what I want to do next. This last week or so the play has begun to take most of my energy, although that will ease some with opening on Saturday night.
But I'm trying to stay open to opportunity and possibility. I need to make some money doing something, whether it's selling on eBay or pursuing more writing. Doesn't have to be a lot of money -- although I certainly have no objection to money, mind you!
I've asked the universe yet again to provide and to help me be open. We shall see where this next step takes us.
*******************************
Summer is upon us, early this year. We've already had triple digit temps, much to my disgust. I just didn't get enough rain this year, and the early heat had me scrambling in my closet for something that wasn't long-sleeved and cozy. I'm still organizing everything, but at least the linen and cotton things are readily available now.
The last few nights have been wonderful, though, with cool breezes making for sound sleeping conditions. I do love our location, but the early heat is a little frightening: it will be with us well into October in all likelihood. We're all fearful of another summer of fires and unhealthy air because it is so dry.
**********************
We celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary yesterday by going out to breakfast, since I had rehearsal last night and he worked late again. We'll go to the ocean for a little R&R later this summer.
But we always remember that day in the Bay Area -- which was unseasonably warm for San Francisco, but gorgeous. We laughed, we cried through parts of the ceremony (which we wrote) and at which my Uncle Tom officiated, aboard a yacht on the Bay. We ate. We played and talked and enjoyed the boat ride all around our favorite landmarks, and there were Oracle and Kensington colleagues as well as family with us to mark the day.
We both feel incredibly blessed to have found each other, and to continue to be so much in love at this age. It's not that we don't have trials and some hard stuff to deal with -- but it's never with each other -- it's issues with the girls or with work or health or property or something like that. How rare that is to have such a relationship! I am so grateful.
*************************
In the midst of all the busy-ness it is sometimes hard to remember that THIS is our life, each day. Time doesn't stop because we are too busy to notice what is happening every day, every moment. When the product is released and the play is over, our lives will change again -- not really back to what they were a few months ago, but to where they are going every day with every moment and every experience.
It is essential to find even a few moments to appreciate what we have THIS DAY, to ask for what we need, to reflect on and remember how precious time really is. One thing that becomes increasingly evident as we age is that everything can change in a moment, with a heartbeat. it is up to us to choose how we spend our time, who we touch, what we do and say, how we express our gratitude. We have that choice every day.
Steel Magnolias is in preview tonight and we open Saturday. The play is about the fragility of life, I believe, and the relationships with others that can help us deal with the uncertainty and the choices we all have. I'm grateful to be in it once again, for the third time, to be forging a bond with the five other actresses who are in the cast. I hope our audiences take home with them the blessing of friendship and the appreciation for each day we are given.
So we planted tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, and are experimenting with cantaloupe, watermelon and pumpkins. I've replaced soaker hoses and hung prayer flags which flutter nicely in the breezes. We'll hope for a generous bounty.
*************
Mother's Day came and went without a post from me, although I'd started a draft. I'd put a photo of mother, my brother and me on my Facebook page that was taken just three weeks before she died in 2005. It is hard to believe she's been gone for going on four years now, and that this winter, my dad will have been dead for 10 years.
But I see them in my own reflection: in my fine, greying hair, in my hands that show a delicate network of aging skin and a few arthritic lumps, in my smile. I hear them in my head -- how mother always said she liked listening to the silence rather than music or television (as do I these days), how they preferred ice water to sodas or lemonade, for instance.
I think of them at my age: mother retired at 60 from teaching because daddy had retired at 65, and they spent the next 10 or so years traveling and playing. More than that, too, but those were probably the prime years, although even those saw some health issues for both of them.
That's not quite in the cards for us yet. Tony is in full hammer-down mode as he goes in early and stays late working on a new product release. I've finished up a few stories, but so much of what I was doing has dried up, at least for now, for various reasons -- the main publication I was working on has ended, and I'm just not sure what I want to do next. This last week or so the play has begun to take most of my energy, although that will ease some with opening on Saturday night.
But I'm trying to stay open to opportunity and possibility. I need to make some money doing something, whether it's selling on eBay or pursuing more writing. Doesn't have to be a lot of money -- although I certainly have no objection to money, mind you!
I've asked the universe yet again to provide and to help me be open. We shall see where this next step takes us.
*******************************
Summer is upon us, early this year. We've already had triple digit temps, much to my disgust. I just didn't get enough rain this year, and the early heat had me scrambling in my closet for something that wasn't long-sleeved and cozy. I'm still organizing everything, but at least the linen and cotton things are readily available now.
The last few nights have been wonderful, though, with cool breezes making for sound sleeping conditions. I do love our location, but the early heat is a little frightening: it will be with us well into October in all likelihood. We're all fearful of another summer of fires and unhealthy air because it is so dry.
**********************
We celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary yesterday by going out to breakfast, since I had rehearsal last night and he worked late again. We'll go to the ocean for a little R&R later this summer.
But we always remember that day in the Bay Area -- which was unseasonably warm for San Francisco, but gorgeous. We laughed, we cried through parts of the ceremony (which we wrote) and at which my Uncle Tom officiated, aboard a yacht on the Bay. We ate. We played and talked and enjoyed the boat ride all around our favorite landmarks, and there were Oracle and Kensington colleagues as well as family with us to mark the day.
We both feel incredibly blessed to have found each other, and to continue to be so much in love at this age. It's not that we don't have trials and some hard stuff to deal with -- but it's never with each other -- it's issues with the girls or with work or health or property or something like that. How rare that is to have such a relationship! I am so grateful.
*************************
In the midst of all the busy-ness it is sometimes hard to remember that THIS is our life, each day. Time doesn't stop because we are too busy to notice what is happening every day, every moment. When the product is released and the play is over, our lives will change again -- not really back to what they were a few months ago, but to where they are going every day with every moment and every experience.
It is essential to find even a few moments to appreciate what we have THIS DAY, to ask for what we need, to reflect on and remember how precious time really is. One thing that becomes increasingly evident as we age is that everything can change in a moment, with a heartbeat. it is up to us to choose how we spend our time, who we touch, what we do and say, how we express our gratitude. We have that choice every day.
Steel Magnolias is in preview tonight and we open Saturday. The play is about the fragility of life, I believe, and the relationships with others that can help us deal with the uncertainty and the choices we all have. I'm grateful to be in it once again, for the third time, to be forging a bond with the five other actresses who are in the cast. I hope our audiences take home with them the blessing of friendship and the appreciation for each day we are given.
Monday, September 15, 2008
A quick weather whine
I can't help it. I just HAVE to whine about the weather. If you don't want to hear it, don't read this.
It's been over 100 degrees on our front porch, regardless of what the "official" temps were, for days and days, and the expected high is 100. Yeah, yeah, it is supposed to drop down into the 80s and low 90s later this week, and temps hovering around 60 at night.
But I am.
SO.
TIRED.
of this. I don't want to wear shorts and tees and sweat whenever I go outside -- and sweat like a pig whenever I dry my hair, for pete's sake! -- I don't want more dust and baking heat and crispy grass that disintegrates under your feet. Yeah, we use the swamp cooler daily, and AC when it is too humid to use the swamp cooler, or when the forecast is for much hotter temps, like 106 and up. But still...
I want the crisp days of fall with temps barely reaching 70, maybe a touch higher, but where longer pants and a sweater feel good if it's breezy. I want crunchy fresh apples to bite into, and cold apple cider, unfiltered, and gingerbread. And stew and chili. I'm tired of salads and hot weather food, trying to think of things to fix that won't heat up the kitchen.
I want the wheel to turn just a bit into fall, into harvest. The moon last night was stunning in the sky, lighting up everything. It's a harvest moon, a fall moon. Not a late summer moon!
I want cool, cloudy days with rain every few days -- enough slow, fat drops to really sink into the scorched earth and feed the roots of the oaks -- which have been losing leaves since early this summer and dropped their acorns fully a month early, which means the deer are very hungry right now. I want things washed and fresh instead of dusty and worn out.
No, I'm not ready for wood stove. That can wait at least another month. I just want to have windows open and cool breezes blowing through the house, and to wear capri pants and longer sleeved shirts, and maybe some socks during the day instead of putting on things that touch only at the shoulders because it's too hot to wear anything else.
I don't want to sweat while I'm trying to put on foundation and have it slide right off my face.
Yuk. Double yuk
I knew it would get hot when we decided to move here, and mostly I tolderate it well. But, as my honey has patiently pointed out, I get like this EVERY fall. Well, this one is no exception.
Okay, back to your regularly scheduled blog. Thanks for indulging me.
It's been over 100 degrees on our front porch, regardless of what the "official" temps were, for days and days, and the expected high is 100. Yeah, yeah, it is supposed to drop down into the 80s and low 90s later this week, and temps hovering around 60 at night.
But I am.
SO.
TIRED.
of this. I don't want to wear shorts and tees and sweat whenever I go outside -- and sweat like a pig whenever I dry my hair, for pete's sake! -- I don't want more dust and baking heat and crispy grass that disintegrates under your feet. Yeah, we use the swamp cooler daily, and AC when it is too humid to use the swamp cooler, or when the forecast is for much hotter temps, like 106 and up. But still...
I want the crisp days of fall with temps barely reaching 70, maybe a touch higher, but where longer pants and a sweater feel good if it's breezy. I want crunchy fresh apples to bite into, and cold apple cider, unfiltered, and gingerbread. And stew and chili. I'm tired of salads and hot weather food, trying to think of things to fix that won't heat up the kitchen.
I want the wheel to turn just a bit into fall, into harvest. The moon last night was stunning in the sky, lighting up everything. It's a harvest moon, a fall moon. Not a late summer moon!
I want cool, cloudy days with rain every few days -- enough slow, fat drops to really sink into the scorched earth and feed the roots of the oaks -- which have been losing leaves since early this summer and dropped their acorns fully a month early, which means the deer are very hungry right now. I want things washed and fresh instead of dusty and worn out.
No, I'm not ready for wood stove. That can wait at least another month. I just want to have windows open and cool breezes blowing through the house, and to wear capri pants and longer sleeved shirts, and maybe some socks during the day instead of putting on things that touch only at the shoulders because it's too hot to wear anything else.
I don't want to sweat while I'm trying to put on foundation and have it slide right off my face.
Yuk. Double yuk
I knew it would get hot when we decided to move here, and mostly I tolderate it well. But, as my honey has patiently pointed out, I get like this EVERY fall. Well, this one is no exception.
Okay, back to your regularly scheduled blog. Thanks for indulging me.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Snippets here and there
Those of you who are observant will note the addition of my photo at the top of this blog. My honey was actually the catalyst for this: his photo now adorns his blog, and I figured if he was gonna put it out there, then I could too.
It's not like I'm not already visible: the photo also appears in Enjoy magazine, a wonderful north state glossy magazine for which I've had the privilege of writing for more than a year, and a similar shot also has appeared with my some-time real estate column in the Redding Record Searchlight's Sunday Homes section, although the column hasn't been in there lately for various reasons.
But it's a decent photo of me, taken by Tony on our back porch, before the wonderful ivy geraniums got nibbled to nubbins by the deer, and before the scorching north winds of a couple of weeks ago blew down the other plant that was hanging from our porch roof.
"Why no -- there hasn't been ANY retouching," she said guilelessly.
So now you know the face behind the words.
**************
September 11 came and went although not without ceremonies of remembrance. I wrote about our experiences on that horrible day a few years ago.
I don't believe we've ever recovered from it, although I think that our collective attitudes have reverted back to the largely self-centered ones that preceded it. I so clearly remember the connectedness that pervaded the country in the days and months after the tragedy. I wish there was some way to regain that without another disaster.
*******************
And I re-read last year's September posts: it was not a particularly fun month, and this hasn't been either. I always am interested to note the changes, however.
I'm still working on getting back into the full writing swing though -- the cross-country trip and settling in took a lot of energy and time, and I'm just now beginning to come back up to something like normal. I'm trying to get enough sleep and take a little time for me, but so far what that's involved is eating a lot more candy than I have eaten in months. I'm going to Bunco this month, however, and that will give me a really great girlfriend fix. I'm also hoping the Cowgirls will get together again soon -- I miss that connection.
This is our surgery month, too -- both Tony and I get cataracts removed and new lenses implanted -- he on one eye, me on both. We're both looking forward to better eyesight and easy recovery from this very simple procedure. That's coming up...
Last year's note about 57 degrees and rain on Sept. 22 gives me hope: it's been over 100 for days, although nights are cooling to lower 60s-upper 50s, and we keep windows open then. But I'm so tired of dust and heat and sweat and crispy crunchy grass, and the garden is just pathetic -- fruit doesn't set well with very hot temps, so the tomatoes look worn out and ready for the compost heap on top, although there's green at the roots. We're nearly at mid-September though, and it won't last too much longer.
We all long for change, don't we, at this time of year: the bountiful harvest of our hard labors in our homes, our jobs, our gardens. We long for new opportunities and fresh starts, for cooler days and renewing rains, and for the feeling that the great wheel is indeed turning as it should. It doesn't feel like that yet -- it feels stuck in place, like a little pebble is preventing the wheel from moving much -- but yet I know that it soon will move on. Life is short enough -- I don't want to waste my days and wish them away -- and yet, I am ready for something to change for the better.
It's not like I'm not already visible: the photo also appears in Enjoy magazine, a wonderful north state glossy magazine for which I've had the privilege of writing for more than a year, and a similar shot also has appeared with my some-time real estate column in the Redding Record Searchlight's Sunday Homes section, although the column hasn't been in there lately for various reasons.
But it's a decent photo of me, taken by Tony on our back porch, before the wonderful ivy geraniums got nibbled to nubbins by the deer, and before the scorching north winds of a couple of weeks ago blew down the other plant that was hanging from our porch roof.
"Why no -- there hasn't been ANY retouching," she said guilelessly.
So now you know the face behind the words.
**************
September 11 came and went although not without ceremonies of remembrance. I wrote about our experiences on that horrible day a few years ago.
I don't believe we've ever recovered from it, although I think that our collective attitudes have reverted back to the largely self-centered ones that preceded it. I so clearly remember the connectedness that pervaded the country in the days and months after the tragedy. I wish there was some way to regain that without another disaster.
*******************
And I re-read last year's September posts: it was not a particularly fun month, and this hasn't been either. I always am interested to note the changes, however.
- We are happily communicating with daughter #3, and in fact, have a 3-month-old grandson who is a charmer. She is in a better place, I think, although this year has been hard for her health-wise. She and her boyfriend are in the process of making some changes to their lives -- again -- and we hope it will be better for all concerned. She has matured tremendously over this past year, and it is indeed gratifying to see her emerge into a mostly sensible young mother -- she even described herself the other day as a "soccer mom" -- she also is "stepmom" to his three children, a huge undertaking all by itself. We're proud of her and grateful for the improvement in communication.
- No change as far as communication with daughter #2, and we only hope that she is okay. One day, perhaps, we'll know more. Until then, she is in our prayers and has our love around her, even if she doesn't choose to acknowledge it.
- The biggest change is that daughter #1 is living with us after a difficult year and some very scary events. She is trying to adapt to small town life after living all her adult life in a substantially-sized city; she is enduring medication changes and subsequent side effects that have mostly sapped her natural energy; and she is adjusting to living with mom again after being independent for years. We're in a one-day-at-a-time existence, all of us. I am so grateful to have her where I can touch her and talk to her, and to know that she is safe, fed, and that she has resources to help her. Mostly those ice weasels have gone quiet, but I'd sure like to help her find some friends around her age who share some of her interests. It's just a huge, hard life change for her, on top of all the other issues.
I'm still working on getting back into the full writing swing though -- the cross-country trip and settling in took a lot of energy and time, and I'm just now beginning to come back up to something like normal. I'm trying to get enough sleep and take a little time for me, but so far what that's involved is eating a lot more candy than I have eaten in months. I'm going to Bunco this month, however, and that will give me a really great girlfriend fix. I'm also hoping the Cowgirls will get together again soon -- I miss that connection.
This is our surgery month, too -- both Tony and I get cataracts removed and new lenses implanted -- he on one eye, me on both. We're both looking forward to better eyesight and easy recovery from this very simple procedure. That's coming up...
Last year's note about 57 degrees and rain on Sept. 22 gives me hope: it's been over 100 for days, although nights are cooling to lower 60s-upper 50s, and we keep windows open then. But I'm so tired of dust and heat and sweat and crispy crunchy grass, and the garden is just pathetic -- fruit doesn't set well with very hot temps, so the tomatoes look worn out and ready for the compost heap on top, although there's green at the roots. We're nearly at mid-September though, and it won't last too much longer.
We all long for change, don't we, at this time of year: the bountiful harvest of our hard labors in our homes, our jobs, our gardens. We long for new opportunities and fresh starts, for cooler days and renewing rains, and for the feeling that the great wheel is indeed turning as it should. It doesn't feel like that yet -- it feels stuck in place, like a little pebble is preventing the wheel from moving much -- but yet I know that it soon will move on. Life is short enough -- I don't want to waste my days and wish them away -- and yet, I am ready for something to change for the better.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
You know it's July when the temp gets over 105
How about 115 on our front porch yesterday?
With 7 percent humidity.
Now, I realize that those friends and family members who live in the midwest and south have absolutely NO CLUE what humidity that low feels like. It's desert dry. It's watch-your-skin-shrivel-right-up-and-wrinkle dry. It's nearly nosebleed dry.
If you hung wet clothes on a clothesline, you'd be taking down the first ones by the time you'd finished hanging a basket.
Today brought smoky haze from the southeast: Paradise is burning up again, and evacuations are again in place for this little community near Chico. Tony said ash was falling on his truck in the parking lot. Air quality there is unhealthy for anyone. And it was supposed to hit 117 here, although it only got to about 110 because of the haze.
Only. 110.
I'm back in mole mode -- blinds drawn against the sun and I try not to go out after noon. The kitties are flopped on the front porch near the front door where presumably there is a trickle of cooler air. I've got a fan on them and bring them ice cubes and water periodically, and I even rubbed the twins down with ice this afternoon -- they liked it. The water evaporates so quickly that it is cooling, albeit briefly.
The garden is doing well, although fruit won't set this hot, I think. I've had lots of squash and zucchini, and some nice cucumbers, a few green beans, and tomatoes are coming. I've been trading squash for tomatoes, though, and tonight we had fresh tomato, turkey bacon and lettuce-leaf basil sandwiches on whole wheat. The lettuce-leaf basil is just wonderful -- not as strong as the regular stuff, and big leaves, and very tender. It's going on my list to plant next year.
I put up prayer flags atop the garden fence this morning -- on a trip Sunday to the Mt. Shasta Lavender Farm, my girlfriends and I stopped at a street festival in Mt. Shasta City where it was tie-dye hippie heaven, and found the prayer flags in one of the booths. So my little flags, in the traditional Tibetan colors of yellow, green, red, white, and blue, are flapping prayers all day long. I like that very much. The garden is a spiritual place for me anyway -- I love working in the earth, watching things grow and thrive, and then harvesting the food to nourish our bodies.
One delightful movie we watched this weekend: August Rush. It's improbable and totally stretches credibility, but the music is wonderful, the story is heart-warming (and sad too), and Freddie Highmore, who plays little Evan/August, just makes you want to scoop him up and love on him. It was a nice escape from heat and gas prices and sick children and stress.
Stay cool. Check everything twice. Be patient. Drink lots of water in non-plastic bottles (I just bought them for us). Say thank you to the universe.
With 7 percent humidity.
Now, I realize that those friends and family members who live in the midwest and south have absolutely NO CLUE what humidity that low feels like. It's desert dry. It's watch-your-skin-shrivel-right-up-and-wrinkle dry. It's nearly nosebleed dry.
If you hung wet clothes on a clothesline, you'd be taking down the first ones by the time you'd finished hanging a basket.
Today brought smoky haze from the southeast: Paradise is burning up again, and evacuations are again in place for this little community near Chico. Tony said ash was falling on his truck in the parking lot. Air quality there is unhealthy for anyone. And it was supposed to hit 117 here, although it only got to about 110 because of the haze.
Only. 110.
I'm back in mole mode -- blinds drawn against the sun and I try not to go out after noon. The kitties are flopped on the front porch near the front door where presumably there is a trickle of cooler air. I've got a fan on them and bring them ice cubes and water periodically, and I even rubbed the twins down with ice this afternoon -- they liked it. The water evaporates so quickly that it is cooling, albeit briefly.
The garden is doing well, although fruit won't set this hot, I think. I've had lots of squash and zucchini, and some nice cucumbers, a few green beans, and tomatoes are coming. I've been trading squash for tomatoes, though, and tonight we had fresh tomato, turkey bacon and lettuce-leaf basil sandwiches on whole wheat. The lettuce-leaf basil is just wonderful -- not as strong as the regular stuff, and big leaves, and very tender. It's going on my list to plant next year.
I put up prayer flags atop the garden fence this morning -- on a trip Sunday to the Mt. Shasta Lavender Farm, my girlfriends and I stopped at a street festival in Mt. Shasta City where it was tie-dye hippie heaven, and found the prayer flags in one of the booths. So my little flags, in the traditional Tibetan colors of yellow, green, red, white, and blue, are flapping prayers all day long. I like that very much. The garden is a spiritual place for me anyway -- I love working in the earth, watching things grow and thrive, and then harvesting the food to nourish our bodies.
One delightful movie we watched this weekend: August Rush. It's improbable and totally stretches credibility, but the music is wonderful, the story is heart-warming (and sad too), and Freddie Highmore, who plays little Evan/August, just makes you want to scoop him up and love on him. It was a nice escape from heat and gas prices and sick children and stress.
Stay cool. Check everything twice. Be patient. Drink lots of water in non-plastic bottles (I just bought them for us). Say thank you to the universe.
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