Hot enough for ya? I must hear it five times a day.
Almost everyone who has waited for the warm weather has had their February prayers answered with these June and July heat waves. And the weekends? I charitably call them Sauna Saturdays and Saturated Sundays. If you are loving it, God bless you. I personally am contemplating a long weekend in northern Newfoundland.
Last weekend, the end of the grandchildren's two week stay here at Camp Gogo, it was so hot that I stayed indoors while my daughter bravely took them to morning playground and afternoon swims. I drank iced coffee and watched Breakfast at Wimbledon with the A.C.'s blasting, leaving my wing chair only long enough to water the gardens very early.
Normally I like summer weekends as much as the next person. Lazy Saturday mornings on the back porch in my summer robe, drinking my first cup of tea, listening to the birds, rocking slowly in the porch chair while reading the morning paper and pausing often to enjoy the gardens. Now that's what a summer morning should be at 72 or 73 degrees. Nice. Not this torrid, steamy heat that hits like a wall of breathlessness as I step out onto the porch. Yuck.
I watch some of those masochistic fools jogging, playing tennis, riding bikes and generally testing the limits of their supposedly healthy bodies in this heat. They're out there with their water bottles strapped to different parts of their sweaty, slimy limbs so they can stay "hydrated." They stay hydrated so they don't die. Why don't they just stay home and sip on a cold Yuengling? These disillusioned souls exercise to push their bodies through the pain. I don't want to push anything through the pain - I don't even want to get to the pain. But enough moaning. I'm never going to like the heat so I'm having to invent new ways to enjoy these scorching weekends. This weekend, fortunately, enjoyment is going to be easy.
Tomorrow is my mother's birthday. I know that the fact she is 94 is not going to make Sunday cooler, but it will certainly make it nicer.
Ninety-four is a strange number it doesn't have the nice, round snap of 95, but you know, most of us would take it especially if we could arrive there with all our marbles intact like my Mom. She is doing very well. She made a speech at a ladies luncheon on Wednesday and had the 50 or 60 ladies laughing while sharing early memories of her fascinating life. Her walker was parked beside the podium, but she stood strongly at the microphone for the duration. I was really proud of her.
The doc thinks she should hang up her car keys. I respectfully disagree with him because I've seen no reason to retire her from the road. The car has no dents, and I've yet to see her run a stop sign or drive over a curb. She still parallel parks pretty well and I know a handful of 40 and 50-year olds who can't do that at all. We have managed to slow down her ideas about driving to New Hampshire and Nova Scotia alone and I think she might finally be agreeing with that as her legs have slowed her down. She comments, usually with a twinkle in her eye that "I'm really glad I can still drive 'cuz I sure don't walk very well." This past year has seen her move permanently to either her walker or a cane.
She shops three or four days a week because she's a fresh fruit and vegetable hound. (Hmmm maybe that's how one makes it to 94?) She is a demon on what I call the supermarket AAV's the All Aisle Vehicles. At each store they're all a little different but they've never been a problem for her. To my knowledge there have been no shopping cart collisions, no disasters with displays, no downed pedestrians in the produce section.
While the family was visiting the past two weeks she even did her share of the cooking. She made two incredible batches of world-class blueberry muffins - one each weekend and brought lamb chops for everyone which she insisted on grilling outdoors herself. Volunteer grilling from a lamb chop connoisseur is not to be taken lightly.
This Sunday evening I think we'll have some other food favorites of hers at what is going to be a quiet celebration. I'm thinking that next year, however, quiet will have nothing to do with it 95 is a big, fat celebratory number and it could take most of the year to work up to that noisy party.
And, like this weekend, I'll be hoping for a cooler day. Even ninety-four candles make a lot of heat. I'll bet if it's really warm, Mom will opt to sit inside and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she asks for a cold Yuengling. She has always been a sensible woman.
Happy Birthday, Mom.