Monday, August 13, 2012

Christmas Day

"'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse."
According to the poem, this must be Christmas Day.  Yesterday was one of those slightly eerie days when no barn creatures appeared to keep me company as I milked.  Not a mouse, bird, or squirrel stirred.  I don't blame them.  If the goats and I had a choice, we wouldn't have been under that metal roof in direct sun either.  Chores were done in record time with no frills and no fooling around.

Back at the house, Dave and I were comparing notes by phone on the race at Watkins Glen.  They say we lose body heat through our head.  Maybe so, but I know for sure that stripping off shoes and socks (or sticking feet out from under the blanket at night) makes me feel a lot cooler.  I mentioned to Dave that it was in the high nineties in the house and it wasn't just shoes I'd taken off.  As a construction foreman, he's used to working in heat and suggested a wet towel around my neck.  That felt pretty good.  So good, in fact, that I soaked my loose tank top and put it back on wet.  It cooled a lot more body space than just the towel.  It was at that moment I realized I had become my mother.

Somewhere in the (imaginary) Mother's Manual it says that parents must embarrass their children (and grandchildren) on a regular basis.  I know my mother followed this rule, and I'm sure I did, too.  Mother lived for a time in a small apartment complex without air conditioning.  Her method of coping with heat was to sit outside wearing a wet slip and watch TV through the open door.  That in itself was mortifying, but she made Deb and me wet our clothes when we visited and join her, and that was worse.  In those days, I'd have rather put up with the heat.

Yesterday, every time I took Bess out for a dip in her pool, I soaked my top too.  Just getting cool for a little while was our Christmas present.

The heat is not going to let up today and what's worse, dark clouds are building up over the mountain.  I'm going through my pre-electrical outage drill just in case.

1 comment:

Kathryn said...

Total, complete, and utter sympathy coming from me - stay in wet clothes and hang in there! Praying for a cooling Delta breeze for you. Sounds like a Southern novel that you are writing...luckily without the humidity...but still...