If I’ve learned anything in moving from the Pacific Northwest to Texas, it’s how to handle a wider range of temperatures than I was accustomed to experiencing on a regular basis. Part of that is thanks, I suspect, to a gradual cyclic change of the climate in general, and that was helpful in its way: the extremes at both ends of the weather spectrum had gotten slightly extended outward before I left western Washington, so while it was nowhere near as common to have three-digit Fahrenheit temperatures (around 38C) as it is here in my newer home, it came closer more often. And I can certainly credit a combination of my own tendency to freeze exceedingly easily, even to the point of having a nervelessly cold nose, during much of the year with the counterbalance of that delightful boon of aging, a personal microwave having been activated in my torso at various intervals from my arrival at a Certain Age and forward.
Then there was this relocation to Texas and the discovery that even a freezy-bones like me can learn to love air conditioning in the good old summertime, and conversely, that it really doesn’t have to be snowy, icy or even a notably low temperature to feel bitterly cold in the winter if the wind is howling through town sharply enough at the moment.
So what I’m working on is a sort of low-rent version of biofeedback: learning to think my way toward hot-and-cold happiness. Not hugely successfully, thus far, mind you–this is very much a work in progress. But I’m trying to convince myself that if other people can find the blast of the cold air returns in cafes and grocery aisles pleasant and comfortable, surely the temperature can’t be untenable for me. That if they can like sipping screamingly hot coffee or soup on a cool day and not develop third-degree burns, I should be able to warm up my refrigerated self in wintertime without having to set my socks on fire.
Now that it’s May and has passed 90F/32C at a hasty trot, I do need to get the whole plot in gear. While my brain is not necessarily already operating at top speed in gathering the necessary data to combat the actual, and already pretty nearly oppressive, heat, maybe if I dig deep into my treasury of imagination and do my best to imagine myself cooling off, there just may be hope yet.
Is this some test, Kathryn? Here I sat, enjoying, as I always do, your latest gift to us when, out of nowhere, there’s a pic of bacon sizzling. Oh, I get the point but that’s not my point. Why use bacon? Why not an egg frying on a car hood — or bonnet in deference to Celi? But no and now I am thoroughly distracted. If you figure out how to handle your heat thing, maybe you can share your methods and I can apply ’em to my bacon thing. If you need me, I’ll be back a few paragraphs staring at your … well … you know where to find me.
What can I say that will make this any better? Nothing: I’m an old bacon addict from way back, myself. When I merely think of the concept of sizzle, there can be no other image racing into my mind.
I see snow…and a lamp post…
Where is the Faun?
(When I was a kid in Oklahoma, my solution to the heat of August was to play Christmas Carols in my room…drove my mother nuts!)
You saw that, too? I hadn’t had that photo out in years, and somehow previously I’d missed the whole Narnian magic of it all. And considering that I read those books over a dozen times before I was even out of school . . . Well, sing me a couple of carols and maybe I’ll cheer up! 😀
Mmmmmmmmmmm…bacon good! Bacon friend!
I suspect bacon’s one of the last things I could imagine giving up if I went vegetarian! Which, thanks to bacon, I probably won’t ever be doing . . . mmmmmmmmmm.
Ah, the joys of living in the South! And yup, now I’m jonesin’ for some bacon too. Thanks.
I’d say I’m sorry, but given my own bacon obsession, that would be a stretch. Instead I say, come on over any time and we’ll fry us up some!