It’s still hot here, and we have fans going all over the house. I actually love the sound of a fan. It reminds me of those hot Virginia childhood days, along with those old-fashioned screens that hold the window up about ten inches or so. And ice, lots of ice, in whatever I’m drinking. My mother always said, “You can never have enough ice.”
The last time I was in Virginia in the summer (1992), the heat was incredible. It hit me like a wall in the face each time I left the house. I remember telling my mother I would walk down to the drugstore to pick up her prescription, since it was just a few blocks away. “Oh, no,” she exclaimed. “Take the car!”
She was right.
Yesterday, I went to a workshop with our big dog, Sam, in hopes of teaching him to pull a cart. We nearly expired. Dogs were being hosed down to keep cool, which meant that each time we touched them, a handful of wet hair became attached to us. And everytime he got wet, he leaned against part of me that had been, up to that point, dry.
Later I went with Don to a party for one of his old college friends. As we were driving to the middle of nowhere for the party I asked, “Did you get him a card?”
“Why would I get him a card? It’s not his birthday.”
“It’s not? I thought you said it was a birthday party?”
“Yes, for his twins.”
“You mean to tell me we are on our way to a birthday party for not one, but two, babies, and we don’t have a present for them?”
“They’re just babies. They’ll never know.”
If I hadn’t been so heat-weakened, who knows what might have happened next?