I keep signing up for NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month) which allows you to retake the pledge every month to put up a post a day. Some months are better than others. Even though I wasn’t going to make it for July, I really fell off the rails as of Wednesday. Blame it on a mega Spanish test that had me using my computer only to cram in as many audio sessions as I possibly could. Then after Thursday night’s test, I took off for Sonoma early Friday. And smack into one of the most intense heat spells we’ve had this year so far. Figures I’d be supervising the moving of furniture right at noon when the temperatures shot up toward 100 degrees. I wasn’t sure the moving men were going to make it. Especially when they had to move horse mats throughout the barn. Those things are made from some rubberized form of lead.
Once that was accomplished, I tried to figure out what I could possibly do with the rest of the day. Well, the refrigerator needed cleaning. Nope, not going to take all the food out and leave it on the counter while I cleaned when it was over 90 degrees INSIDE. (Yes, we are that Green that we have no air conditioning in the living loft above the barn. Hey, who needs it? We’ve situated the building for the prevailing winds and we have ceiling fans. Nice theory anyway.)
Work on my blog or do more Spanish exercises? Nope, laptop got so hot I could barely touch the keyboard. Shutting down was the better part of valor. Pick fruit or fertilize the fruit trees? You’ve got to be kidding. That involves a quarter mile hike straight up a 33 degree hill. No thanks. So I ended up involved in the only activity at all doable: lying on the cement floor of the barn with the dogs. Speaking of the dogs, terriers are never inactive. But this weekend, Oscar and Lucy morphed into the kind of lazy sleep-on-the-porch hound dogs you used to see on the old TV show Hee-Haw.
There’s a blogger I follow who lives in Bakersfield and she’s probably sniggering right now having endured several months of over 90 temperatures. Fine, but it’s a whole different story when you are used to it. When you live most of the time in the perpetual Spring of San Francisco where a hot summer day is 70 degrees, then suddenly, in the space of an hour, land in the fourth Circle of Hell, the heat is more than the human — or terrier — body can stand.
By the way, how hot was it? Well, I’m not exactly sure. It was so hot, the mercury in our outside thermometer — which we should note is located completely in the shade — shot up so fast it split in two. (Note to self, keep a thermometer and a stunt thermometer on hand.)
In short, unless I wake up at three in the morning, I probably won’t be updating this weekend. Except if I want to press my fingers into a melting keyboard.