hot hot hot

By noon yesterday it was so hot in the house that I started thinking that it’s gonna be a very hot summer, and time to get a small window fan. By about two, I was sitting with Mike in the Mustang – top down, of course – heading over to Wreck Beach, which was full but not packed, if you know what I mean. Mike brought a UV blocking cabana (made for Spalding, it weighs less than a pound and keeps the sun off ver’ nicely) and then it was homemade music, surf, kids laughing, startlingly vast gusts of fattie smoke, a nice breeze which died around 4 pm, and the goddamned RCMP creeping up and down the beach several times, forcing me to hide my beer, the bastards. Yes, I know, what am I doing drinking on the beach? Well, it’s all part of the ambience. I even went in the water. Twice. The first time I thought that somebody was stabbing me in the feet with icy knives; the second time, basically just to make sure that I hadn’t had a physical hallucination, the icy knives were stabbing in all directions up to my navel. Don’t think I would have done well in Bastogne. Mike and I conversed about a number of things, but it was not a day for heavy conversation.

Left the beach to hook up with the kids to watch Narnia II, but (oh look, Gizmo is sniffing the barbecue in a hopeful way) unfortunately the 7:20 was sold out, so I bought them a snack and Keith headed out to my place with one of my parcels and I hung out with Katie briefly and then headed home.

Left the beach – I laugh to see that effort compressed into three words. I have been climbing a lot of stairs lately because I changed my route to work a bit, so I’m actually in good shape to climb stairs. I just couldn’t because of how hot I was. I stopped five times on the way up those 375 stairs (normally I stop once); but there were people skinnier and younger than me doing the same, so I didn’t feel bad. One middle aged guy (I must have been VERY red) asked me if I was okay and I just nodded. I didn’t push; I just climbed when I could. Got a shuttle bus almost instantly, then made the Big Mistake of the day and got on the 41 instead of the 25. The bus, which was driven by a woman in the first grip of a manic episode (I wish I was exaggerating) went mechanical (speedometer, a no go item), so I get tossed off my nice comfy seat and forced to stand in the blasting heat for twenty minutes until the replacement bus came, which was not a replacement bus, but just the next bus, which already had standees. That’s when things seriously fell apart. It took ten minutes of haranguing on the part of the bus driver (another female, this one justifiably testy but quite sane) to get everybody onto the bus – I lost sight of my bags – and every goddamned stop was accompanied by yelling to allow people on and off the bus. When I hit Joyce Station I learned that the movie was sold out (I was late anyway) and that’s when I met up with the kids (they appeared just as I pushed the door open at the mall, a wonderful feeling) and fed them a snack.

The sun (yes, the sun, I only had two beers) having had a wicked effect on me, I collapsed. Really, I should have had a shower first, but the way things have been going I figured the only way to make sure I actually wash my sheets today is by bringing the beach home with me. Out of courtesy to the other people who use the laundry machines I’m going to shake them out off the back deck first.

My back feels great. I like the sun. I even like moderate amounts of exercise. But the best part is coming home and thinking that I’ve lost a dress size off my butt from the exfoliation. I really love the beach.