Saturday, October 16, 2010


Yard Sales

This lamp is just right for the night stand. 10/16/16

Something persuaded
me to turn right on Lake today when I went out to do a few errands. I was drawn past a couple of yard sale signs until I came to 'the one' that prompted me to turn down a long driveway that led me to the bedside lamp I had been envisioning ever since I got the nightstand in 2007. It fits in and puts out just the right amount of light.

Extra Step
I get to put water in this pitcher to pour in the coffee pot. 10/16/10

The other item I found at the yard sale was a plastic pitcher. Now that I have the gurgling giant water jug, instead of the easy to pour gallon size, I got something to put water in so that I can pour it into the coffee maker. I feel like this is a backward step, efficiencywise, but the Mt. Shasta spring water makes great tasting coffee, so I guess it all evens out in a flavorful cup of Joe.

It's Not The Heat

Friday, I found that I needed to have the air conditioner set to around 78 to keep the apartment from feeling warm and muggy.

Outside, the temperature was 87 degrees. This is part of the cooling trend that we are experiencing here in Redding this weekend. Though the temperature was 15 or 20 degrees cooler than it has been, it was warm and sticky.

Humidity had come to town and it got me to reminiscing about humid places I have been.

I remember traveling to Delaware with my dad one time where we played a round of golf. A firmly struck golf ball could barely push it’s way through the steamy ocean of muggy heat. Muscles became sluggish and leaden. Just walking required extraordinary effort. This in no way diminished the ravenous hunger of the mosquitoes lurking in the grass.

By the time we had finished our round, my white socks had become splotchy red from the smashed mosquitoes that had dined right through the material. In spite of the adverse conditions, or perhaps as a result of them, I shot an 89, (the temperature). I don’t remember what dad’s score was.

Whatever he wrote down on his score card, it was no reflection of his actual stroke count. Instead, it would be his optimistic estimate of what would seem reasonable to someone who wasn’t watching while he hacked his way around 18 holes. He was an avid duffer and played golf everywhere he went.

Ultimately, he and my mom bought a house alongside a fairway at the Hattiesburg Country Club where he spent most of his last years making divots and having the time of his life.

Even though the day was hot and buggy, I will always cherish that round of golf with my dad on a sunny Delaware afternoon.

I was driving along the Atlantic coast with the windows down. It was cloudy and muggy. It felt like rain, whether it was actually falling or not. I had my arm resting on the windowsill when all of a sudden my hair was tingling and something tugged on my elbow. Bam! Lightning exploded on the side of the road, leaving a smoldering burnt spot on the grass. There was a puff of smoke curling up from the scorched, blackened circle, and I noticed that my arm was fully extended in the direction of the strike. I didn’t really notice the heat or the humidity for the rest of that day.

It was in the summer of 1965, I think, when I was a very busy 20 year old band leader. In Houston, I had a regular 6 night a week band, plus an after hours band. On Sunday afternoons I had my Galveston beach band. We played at a bar that was open to the beach.

This was the place
where I discovered just how much I could sweat while singing and playing. After 2 or 3 songs, I would literally be standing in a puddle of my own sweat. I would gulp down a bottle of beer between each song and sweat it out before the song was through. Until I experienced those Sunday’s when my sweat glands were actually squirting, I would have never believed such a thing was humanly possible.

The humidity mothership. There is a reason why Houston was the most air conditioned city in the world when I lived there. It was so miserably humid, that the downtown businesses were connected by warrens of air conditioned underground tunnels so that one need not be exposed to the insufferable hot, heavy, moisture laden air that would have your clothes sopping wet with sweat in seconds.

It was nice
that the mugginess here in Redding triggered these fond memories.

Today's Relatively Appropriate Song;

No Sweat

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