Friday Mental Massage: Africa Hot

I haven't done the old Friday Mental Massage for a while, so let's get it all out, shall we?

Africa Hot--I spent most of my summer in Las Vegas. The temperature was in triple digits all the time. Sure, it was hot, but it wasn't miserable. This week, G-Vegas is, to quote Biloxi Blues, "Africa Hot." I started working on cleaning out my garage yesterday afternoon and gave up after half an hour. My wife and I took the kid to the pool. When I started sweating in the water, I knew it was time to go back inside.

So, I did what any reasonable guy does in such a such a situation. I went to a bar. Then a poker game. By 10pm, despite being in a room with central air conditioning and two fans, I was sweating like my friend T does on an 80 degree day. I left before I'd planned to and came home. Once in bed, I continued to sweat in my 72-degree house. Something was so obviously wrong with my body, I decided to not go outside today.

Guess who's back?--It's about time I say.

What? WHAT?--Well, let's see here...I've been wanting to take a particular trip for the past three years, but wasn't able to do it. Now when I really don't have the mental fortitude or time to do it, I've been asked to go on this ten day jaunt. Well, that was fast. Back you your regularly scheduled program. I'll be maintaining the schedule I'd intended for the next couple months.

That news alone has turned this massage into a beat down.

I'm just going to sit here and not go outside.

Outside toys

Li'l Otis enjoys the yearly $100,000 toy allowance made possible through a deal worked out by the grandparents, a couple of small foreign governments, and a sweatshop in Juarez. We're having a hard time finding space for all the sports equipment, books, and heavy equipment replicas. There's also the variety of blocks, the likes of which have inspired me with some regularity to throw the goat and scream, "Rock out with your blocks out, buddy!" He humors me, throws his version of the goat, and goes back to doing something a little more mature.

If the compact with Antigua and Figi ever goes south--or the the Juarez sweatshop ever runs out of yeyo--you might think my kid would get bored. Methinks not. If the constant infusion of new entertainment options were to dry up, I'd simply need to live in a place...well, much like I live now. That is, a place where I can go outside pretty much all year without fear of hypothermia or the Minnesota Vikings.

The past few days here have made me a little more grumpy about going to Monte Carlo. That's because it's 50 degrees on the Cote D'Azur and it's 80 degrees on the slopes of Mt. Otis. Under the new Spring sun, my son can find toys in just about anything. Rocks are his favorite, likely because of their multi-use functionality. He's a utilitarian kid. We spent most of yesterday outside in various parks.











It was 8:30 this morning when I let the dog out for her morning constitutional. I stepped out on the back deck in my bare feet. The kid followed me out in his socks. We stood and waited for the mutt to finish up. The air was warm. The moment was short but perfect.

"I have to go work for a while," I said. "You and mommy are going to take me to the airport, okay?"

"Where are you going?" the kid asked.

"A place called Monte Carlo," I said. "Can you say Monte Carlo?"

"Look! A bee!"

And that was that.

With any luck, the toy cartel will keep my kid in good spirits while I'm gone. I assume the sun will still be shining up my return.

Wheels up, cowboy.

Don't call me a Boy Scout

I don't believe the weather-guessers. I don't really believe that I will face winter apocalypse in the morning. I don't really believe that I'm going to have to spend any time without power or internet service. I don't believe I'm going to have to move my young son and old dog into a hotel room or beg friends with electricity to sleep in their guest rooms. I don't believe I'm going to have to roll around in sleepless fits while giant sweetgum limbs fall on my house and explode into a dozen pieces. I don't believe I'm going to have to spend eight days in a suburban Starbucks just so that I can get my work done. I don't beieve I need a week's worth of fresh water and canned food. I don't believe I need fire logs, batteries, and propane.

Of course, I didn't believe any of these things in December of 2005. And, well, yeah, all of the above turned out to be an issue.

So, today we bought everything we needed and prepared ourselves to deal with the first winter storm of the season. [Note to weather people: The phrase 'wintery mix' sounds like something I would snack on at a Christmas party. Why don't you call it what it really is? Otis-Screwing Hell Storm Carolina.] By preparing, I'm sure this will make sure the weather turns out to be a little damp and unfrozen.

Which would be just the fuck fine with me.

If I can still use this power outlet and internet connection at thiss time tomorrow night, I'll be one happy Otis. And if you don't see me here by Friday, you know that I've given up and moved to some mudslide or hurricane-prone area.