July 3, 1983
Amy’s out at the lake, and Jill & Cindy are at Jill’s parents’ friends’ cabin for the weekend — so I’m bored.
It’s been raining a LOT lately. Heavy rains & severe thunderstorms. I like sunshine better.
July 6, 1983
I don’t really have much to say but I know I’d better keep writing in you so I don’t get out of the habit.
It was really hot today. And my tan is getting better all the time.
As a philosophical part of the signature to my personal email, I use a quote from Eckhart Tolle that says, “Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it.”
That’s how I’m trying to feel about the weather. It’s hot. So hot I can’t even come up with a fresh metaphor. Sweaty, humid, uncomfortable hot. And it’s not just hot here in northern Illinois — it’s hot all over.
At least we have power.
While I could worry about climate change, and I could complain about how flat my hair is in this humidity, and I could wish it would cool off so I could just enjoy summer, I’m trying to accept the present heat wave as if I had chosen it. Because back in December or January when my feet were ice blocks as I climbed into bed and I laid there shivering for 15 minutes until I warmed up enough to fall asleep, I probably wished for dew point in the 80s.
Here in the Northern Plains states, part of the definition of “July” is “90-degree temperatures.” Weather like this means swimsuits and sandals and watermelon and water balloons — fun things that are never a part of winter.
I’m embracing the heat like it’s an old lady with a full bosom and shiny forehead who talks really loud but smells nice and makes buttery cookies — a little overwhelming but means well. (Ah, there’s the metaphor.)
Here’s to Mother Nature’s hot flashes.