Tuesday.
9:30am – It’s 64 degrees right now.
So cold.
THAT’S the Oregon I know and love. None of this 95 degrees by 9am shenanigans like we had Monday. I mean, goodness. That little record-breaking heat wave brought back memories of road tripping through Death Valley as a kid. Except this was hotter. (?!) I just can’t even with how bizarre it was.
I mean, Saturday: record breaking heat
Sunday: broke Saturday’s record
Sunday: broke Saturday’s record
Monday: shattered Sunday’s record
So THANK YOU, Universe, I cast down the gauntlet in my post back on June 14 and you definitely proved yourself. What was that show where someone takes off their glove, says, “I challenge you to a duel,” and smacks their opponent across the face – and then the other person takes a big metal hand off a suite of armor and hits them upside the head, saying “Very well, I accept” – ?
Pretty sure it was a Cary Elwes moment.
That was us.
I am officially defrosted now. Very thoroughly. Good job. Concerns about not appreciating autumn this year are allllll melted away. Literally. Because everything melted over the weekend. We were puddles of swiftly evaporating whiteness, oozing down to our much-cooler basement, praising amazon shipping for delivering our handheld misting fans so quickly last week, and braving the heat only to go spray down the outdoor dog, water the garden, and let the chickens free-range so they didn’t die.
(RIP strawberries. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know they could get into the garden.)
Back to those handheld fans, though. Gotta relish those mom-win moments when they happen. I actually had the foresight and follow-through to jump on my laptop and NOT get distracted after I saw that heat-wave forecast. Razor-sharp focus, I tell you what.
110F, are you kidding?
OVER one hundred ten. Degrees. Here. This weekend.
And in this 30-year-old home, previously owned by super-stubborn “Never give up, never surrender!” die-hards – we don’t have air conditioning.
(Yet. But we likely will. Because I give up. I surrender. I have no such qualms about being a wimp. I refuse to brave elements unless they need to be braved. End of discussion.)
(Yet. But we likely will. Because I give up. I surrender. I have no such qualms about being a wimp. I refuse to brave elements unless they need to be braved. End of discussion.)
So anyway, amazon and I had a quick little conversation a week ago, and it went like this:
“Yo, ‘Zon, ya got them sprayer-fan things?”
“Duh. Here’s 5 million. You’ll never be able to pick.”
“Whaddayahave that can be here, like, tomorrow?”
“Nothin.”
“Okay, fine, how ’bout before Saturday?”
“Here are 3 dozen options that should be here on Thursday.”
“Great. Shut up and take my money.”
First world blessings. My kids were overwhelmed with gratitude when I busted these precious little modern marvels. For one shining, sweaty moment, I was the mom-hero I’ve always wanted to be, oh glorious day.
Sometimes I think we’re pretty much drowning in first world blessings. But it’s a rather nice way to go, really.
I mean, if there’s a life-threatening heat wave coming at you, you get notice. How cool is THAT?
And then, there are ways to combat it. Like, lots of ways, including running water that you can get straight out of your tap and soak washcloths in so you can sleep even though it’s fricking 100 degrees outside at 10pm.
The world as I see it is a beautiful miracle, even with its bumps, bruises, and somewhat rotten spots.
Love you, Oregon. Thanks for a wild ride, thanks for going back to having summers that prompt my 10 year old to say, “It feels like Hawaii does in the winter sometimes!” and thanks for having beaches so cold you have to group hug to keep warm. You’re fabulous.
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