I'm back. It's hot.
August 2, 2006On the flight back from BlogHer*, I was seated right in the center of a group of airline attendants who delighted in relating stories involving customers and sickness and bodily fluids spilling in public areas. (This was especially charming as I was at that moment psyching myself into ingesting a slice of limp, nasty airplane pizza. It was revolting, but I forgot to load up my bag with snacks, and I need to eat every 23 minutes or I die.) The man in this group was determined to involve me in their chatter, but I wasn’t having it. I almost came to his rescue when he made a Peter Frampton reference and the young ladies in his company didn’t know who he was talking about. “Really? ‘Frampton Comes Alive’? This isn’t ringing any sort of bells?” he said, and then beseeched me with his eyes to tell him that he wasn’t as old as they now suspected, but he was, and I didn’t. I wanted to read my book. This was an unprecedented opportunity to read more than one page at a sitting, and I wasn’t giving it up for some overly talkative steward of the skies.
Toward the end of the flight he kept handing me Fun Packs of M&Ms. I wish I could tell you why. He was so proud that he could go in the back and get all the M&M Fun Packs he wanted. But I didn’t want them, and this made him sad. Over and over, he waved them in my face, I shook my head, he insisted, I put them in my purse and kept reading. After we landed he tried to give me another one, and I barked, “Fucking hell, do you think I’m eight?” and he blushed and I took the damn thing.
Anyone want a Fun Pack of M&Ms? I have 38 of them. They may have lost their integrity, however, as it is 156 degrees here. With the humidity, the heat index is 218.
Now that it’s 397 degrees outside, Charlie the Dog and I differ over the appropriate amount of time for him to spend basking in the sun. For me the ideal amount of time is zero seconds. I told him this, and he said, “For me it’s zero times infinity, Dude!” and I had to tell him that anything multiplied with zero equals zero. We argued over that for a while, and then he decided that he loves the sun to infinity times infinity, PLUS zero; I don’t know why he had to add the zero. I suspect it’s pride.
It doesn’t matter that the sky is on fire and the tree sap is boiling and causing the tree limbs to shoot straight up into the flaming sky and strike the sun, which causes more molten sun bits to rain down on us. Charlie wants to lie down on our asphalt driveway as it turns to soup and his bones become cinders. I placed a bowl of water next to him and he looked at me like, you wimp. Water is for cowards. I do not fear a little heat.
So I said, okay, dog. You want to die, knock yourself out. I stood by the door and watched him because I didn’t mean it. Approximately two minutes later, he lurched himself up to standing. His lips curled at the corners and he staggered to the side of the yard and puked his doggy guts out.
Now will you listen? I asked him, but he ignored me. I tried to drag him inside. He headed right back to the sunny patch of asphalt. This sun, he said, is lovely.
As I was cursing and trying to drag the dog back inside, Henry came out to see what was the matter. “Charlie won’t go inside,” I said, and he asked why, and I said, “He’s a little dumb.”
This was a mistake. Henry balled up his fists and pointed them at me. “He is NOT DUMB,” he screamed. “That is NOT A NICE thing to say.”
Now, Henry calls everything dumb. It is in fact his favorite word. Everything is dumb. Shoes are dumb. The pool yesterday was dumb, as people were splashing. Splashing is also dumb. Peeing in the toilet is dumb. That’s dumb , he says by way of explanation. He says it sadly and with great pity. I can’t eat this grilled cheese, you see, because it is, well, dumb.
I thought dumb was an apt word for a being who actively seeks out heat stroke, but now I had to apologize. And Henry called Charlie, who got right up and trotted back inside, and they both looked back at me in disgust.
Actually only Henry looked back at me. Charlie didn’t because he’s an idiot.
*What can I say that hasn’t been said? It was amazing, overwhelming, frustrating, exhausting, fantastic, etc.. I met so many great people and have so many new blogs to read. And I’ll get right on that, as soon as the temperature dips below 634.
Reader Comments (73)
Wow, that's dumb. I don't think I can read you anymore.
But then after the fourth time, with me and my delicate system feeling all jumbly from all the sugar I'm not used to eating, I didn't want them. The End.
Alice - could you please share a list of some of the new blogs??
Tell me: what kind of meeting is that? Especially when it is igloo-esque in the room? Especially when all my shaved hair has regrown? Times infinity? Plus zero?
I am now very sleepy, and sitting in front of my space heater.
Cuz they're much better than Smarties. Even in molten form.