Skip to main content

I miss my old friend Mr. Heat Index


This was the forecast for my town on The Weather Channel Web site this a.m. Mostly sunny.

Really? You think?

Because I cannot remember the last time I saw the sun. Saturday evening, maybe? And before that, oh, April 27th? I'm only slightly exaggerating. Over the weekend, the low was in the 40s. It rained all day yesterday, and not a misty smattering but pummeling downpours. I drove to work in drippy fog this morning. I sat at my desk for 45 minutes this morning with my therapy light blazing.

It is (glancing at the wall calendar just to be certain) July 22. In the Midwest. I am wearing a sweater today. A sweater and a black skirt that reaches my ankles. July 22, folks. This is 17 kinds of twisted.

Comments

FletcherDodge said…
It's global climate change. You want sunshine, you'll have to move to Seattle.
3:37 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

So, I Changed My Mind

More than four years ago, the blog and I parted ways. I needed a change. A whole lot happened in my world since then. I switched jobs a couple times. My kid went from an elementary school tween to a teenage high schooler. We built a new house and moved. Both my parents and my sister have passed. The world around me changed as well. Mass shootings, racism, the #metoo movement, a misogynistic bigoted narcissist in the White House ... go ahead, add to the list. Toss your woes into this dumpster fire we call 2019.  I appreciate my previous sentiment, that I was no longer wandering. But let's be honest, we're all trying to find our way through this mess. I decided to reboot the blog to give myself a creative outlet, a way to sort through the confusion and frustration and attempt to make sense of it all. I have a voice, and I'm not keen to silence it anymore. Guess what? I'm back, bitches.
Post a Comment
Read more

Holy Separated-At-Birth, Batman!

Gary Oldman...meet Uncle Knit-Knots from Imagination Movers.
Post a Comment
Read more

In memoriam...

I remember the first time I heard the name "Les Anderson." A bunch of Wichita State University communication majors were sitting around on campus, talking about classes they planned to take. Several people warned me: watch out for Les Anderson. He was tough. He had a murderous grading scale. It was nearly impossible to get an A. They weren't kidding. But he wasn't tough just to be a tyrant. From his teaching sprang a fleet of incredible, successful journalists, writers, editors, broadcasters, public relations experts, advertisers, non-profit professionals...I could go on and on. Most importantly, he created a legion of people who wanted to make a difference in the world. The greatest gift Les gave to them all? He believed in them, cared about them for their own personal stories as well as the stories they told for class assignments or in the pages of his hometown newspaper. Les was my teacher. My boss. My mentor. My conscience. My champion. My friend. When I started c...
5 comments
Read more