July 4, 2013
Happy Independence Day to my fellow Americans! We will be celebrating indoors, most likely. It’s summer in Arkansas. That means it’s too hot to breathe. Well, for most people it is. For a transplanted Yankee with Margaret Mitchell aspirations, it’s heaven.
Summer in the South conjures images of hot, lazy days spent in the shade of the verandah, slow spinning ceiling fans, and tall, sweaty glasses of cool beverages. In reality, it’s air-conditioners that blow like a gale, steering wheels so hot they feel like you’re grabbing the business end of a brand, and inane questions like, “Hot enough for you?”
Yes. It is.
Don’t get me wrong. I love the hot weather. After 30+ years of freezing my tuchas off for ten months out of every calendar year, I’m okay with sitting still when I get too hot. Which isn’t very often. Let’s face it. I go from my climate-controlled house, to my Max A/C car, to my icebox of an office. I hardly have time to thaw on most days. They take their cooling so seriously that I’ve learned to carry a sweater most everywhere I go.
So if you’re looking for me in a crowded room, I’m the one huddling in the polar fleece, itching for any excuse to dash outside to see if it’s hot enough for me.
How about you? Is it hotter than a firecracker in your neck of the woods?