So yesterday, I thought about a segment of one of my favorite movies – Good Morning, Vietnam; specifically the scene in which Robin Williams takes the mic and does the segment on how hot it was in Vietnam. It goes something like this….
How hot is it out there? It’s hot, damn hot, real hot; it’s so hot in my shorts that I can cook things, you know, crotch pot cooking; like you were born on the sun.
Robin Williams, of course, goes on and on about how hot it is and lucky for you, I won’t. But I will tell you that as we leave the Valley of the Sun to head back to Colorado for the summer and fall, it was hot. Damn hot. And it hadn’t even reached 100 degrees. It was dangerously close, hovering around 99, but I don’t think it hit the 100 mark. That doesn’t happen until later this week, when, by Saturday it will be 115 degrees. Like you were born on the sun.
There have only been a few occasions when Bill and I have been here during the really, really hot period. We went to three outdoor high school graduations in late May at which we nearly melted. And my Arizona nephew and his wife married in July at what was thankfully an indoor ceremony. There was a brief scare when the bride learned following the church ceremony that the air conditioning wasn’t working at the site of their reception, but it ended up being all good. Well, except for the video at which they caught Crazy Aunt Kris blowing down the front of her dress to try and cool off. I continue my never-ending quest to try and destroy that video permanently…. But it was hot; damn hot; real hot.
So, we are getting out in the nick of time. My sister Bec, who has only been a permanent resident of Arizona for a few years, says she has finally gotten used to the fact that now that she lives in the Valley of the Sun, she looks at summer the same way she used to look at winter when she lived on the East Coast. Just as she would cover up or put away her furniture in October, here she covers up or puts away her furniture in June. And turns on Netflix and doesn’t turn it off until late October.
I asked her recently if she can sit out and have coffee in the morning on her patio, and the answer was, not really. There comes a point when the temperature at night doesn’t get below 90 degrees when it is already too hot in the morning to enjoy coffee al fresco.
That would make me sad, except I think about my family in Colorado shoveling snow in mid-January while we sit on our outside Arizona patio and have our coffee. The Garden of Eden doesn’t exist anywhere, I’m afraid.
Well, maybe in Hawaii.
We fly home tonight, so when next you hear from me, we will be back in Colorado getting our garden ready for the summer and sitting on our patio having morning coffee.
And then watching our 11-year-old grandson Alastair’s continuation ceremony from 5th grade to Middle School. Say it ain’t so.