Looking at the weather channel as I write this it's 91 degrees outside, feeling like it's 102.
Too damn hot.
It's been like this a few days and will probably continue for a few more. Was it this hot back in the day? My mind goes back in its little Rolodex, searching for a day when it felt like opening an oven when I opened the front door.
I remember playing baseball in the heat, not thinking anything about it. Two, maybe even three games a day. Eight hours. We didn't quit for heat, just a break between games. This was war damn it. The constant sucking down of Mountain Dews from the soda machine in my po dunk home town also helped. There's nothing like a Dew out of a can on a hot day.
The myth that was perpetuated was that the Fourth of July was the hottest day of the year. That's a fraud now, just like the corn being knee high by the Fourth of July. I remember some hot July 4th's, though. One in particular had me soaking my feet in an old wash tub full of hose water. Please commence the banjo jokes.
I don't know if it's old age or what that makes the heat hotter than when I was younger. I could go on about global warming or the humidity coming from my beloved corn, or the ides that we may all just be burning in Hellinois. The sun is beginning to fall in my neck of the woods.
I guess baking time is over.
