Trying not to think about the heat

Relief. The breeze coming off the pond this morning felt good against my sweat-damp skin. The sight of the calm beauty felt good to my soul. I wished for the relief of a cool breeze.

I had set out to ride Odin this morning. I left the house a little before 8:00 with the saddle in the back seat of the car. Already in the high 80’s and humid, by the time I got there, I knew I wouldn’t ride. The sun was already harshly burning, the air too still to be fresh, and the heat waves were already rising.

The high pressure system came early this year and is staying stuck with a vengeance. No rain. No break from the heat. And, no way I can tolerate much more than an hour outside. Instead of riding, I stood in Odin’s shadow enjoying his company, swatting flies while he munched the grass. The heat index was over 100 degrees and I felt a little faint while I drove back home. I gulped a half gallon of water and fell into bed, thankful for the air conditioning.

I’m not going to think. I’m not going to think about how this heat limits what I can do. I’m not going to think about how we are all hiding inside and away from the ruthless sun. I’m not going to think about how this heat could last until the end of November.

Four years of A Bumpy Path

At the end of June, 2007 is when I started this blog about the lumps and the bumps that come along with it all. “All,” for me, is an overactive mind and a passionate heart that causes major damage when there is no outlet.

So, I took to writing. I couldn’t settle for jots and ramblings in a private journal; that wasn’t cutting it. I found it to be pointless to mash all those racing thoughts into processed coherency only to get it out of my system. Surely there has to be a use for all that productivity. Right?  If ‘misery loves company’ is true, then you came to the right place.

Wave that flag, Weiner

From the west it came, blocking the sun’s rays, darkening the sky hours before sunset. The cold met the hot in fury; deafening thunder, blinding lightning. Wind-bent trees were weighed down more under heavy rain that quickly collected to form raging streams and rivulets. The torrent lasted a half hour and was gone. But, the coolness lingered; a welcomed relief from the stifling heat of the last few weeks.

I watched the storm from the barn door with Odin, my ears ringing from the sound of the rain pounding the tin roof. The look in his eye seemed to reflect what I was feeling: Not resigned, not content; not quite suffering, but not far from it either. We were both pensive.

It was a kick in the gut. Someone decided to steal the hubcap covers from one side of my car one morning this week while it was parked at work. I discovered the theft on my way to lunch. I felt, I feel, betrayed. And, horrified. I have so little.

So, what? What is this?

Hunger.

It’s bad. Very bad. It’s so bad right now.

Ticks, bullhockey and blood pressure

See those woods back there? They call loudly to me of swaths of ground that have never seen the soles of shoes, of adventure, and in this blistering heat, of cool, quiet relief. Don’t look too long at those woods though, because looks are deceiving. Looking draws you in, sucks you in, lets you believe your idealistic blabber and naiveté until you are lured into its depths. Step one foot closer and that’s all it takes for the woods to own you. But, not in the idealistic way of cool, of quiet. Oh, no. Look up. If there is even a remote chance that a tree limb is above your head, you’re doomed. And, that’s when the sucking starts. And, it doesn’t stop.