Tag Archives: hot

Room Temperature

 

imageHaha!  That’s my feet sticking out from underneath a throw.  If you’re thinking I’ve run out of mesmerizing topics 13 days in to this January blog-a-day thing I’ve got going on, you might be right.

But I was sitting here in my 19 degree C house admiring my new fuzzy-on-the-inside socks when it occurred to me that they are worth sharing with the world.  Hey, it’s late and I’m tired, and I’ve had one of those days.  So you get sock sharing.

Early this afternoon I went for a follow-up appointment at the ENT Clinic at the University Hospital to discuss the results of the ultrasounds and needle biopsies on my neck.

The waiting room was crowded and hot and I had my winter coat over my arm for almost an hour.  My chair was right beside the reception desk so I got to hear many one-sided phone conversations from there and from rude people on cell phones, plus people talking and a hanging television screen had the sound on.  I’m always afraid in these situations that I won’t hear my name being called.  Then I imagined what it might be like to have a hearing aid and have all these sounds amplified.  Hell, more or less.

The thermostat in the exam room read 24.8 when I got in there.  Then it went up to 24.9.  When it reached 25 I imagined what it might be like to spontaneously combust.  At 25.1 I considered stripping and lying bare skinned on the floor tiles.  It was 25.3 when I left.  Gawd only knows what it’s at now.

I’ve been seeing Dr. Rizk.  And yes, it rhymes with risk.  Once again everything has come back with all kinds of horrible things ruled out, so we know what it isn’t, but nobody knows for sure what it IS.  Or what these lumps might develop into given time.  So my options are to keep showing up for tests and check ups ad infinitum or to have them surgically removed and be done with them.  He told me to go home and think about it.

I also got a flu shot today.  And some toiletries and these amazing slipper socks.  Never before in my life have I had a problem with my feet getting cold.  I’m that person who sleeps with her feet out from under the covers.  I have put bare feet in snow boots and not complained of the cold.  But lately things have changed.  Poor circulation maybe?  Every so often my feet will suddenly be freezing cold and I have to kick off my flip-flops and scrounge around for socks.

These new ones are perfect.  And yeah, gorgeous too. We turned the heat up to 20.  Because it’s winter and we are old. And possibly because W has complained once too often about being cold and I have suddenly developed some empathy on that subject.

And THEN (will this day and the recounting of it never end….) I looked up “room temperature” although what I really meant was ambient temperature and was astounded to discover Wikipedia says its 75 F or 24 C.  I am speechless.  How can anyone stand it that hot?

Okay, your turn. Tell me I’m cold-blooded and strange.  Or is it just where you live and what you’re used to and comfortable with that determines personal ambient temperature?

I’m going to bed now and these socks are coming off.  My feet feel like they’ve been in an oven.

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Before and After

A few hot days ago I took pictures in my backyard of bushes sadly in need of a trim.  I’m here to tell you my crazy slash-and-burn mad trimmer-from-hell of a husband would be very proud of me for making this valiant attempt at tree taming if he were here.  Although of course if he were here this would have been done a month ago and the trees would still be trying to recover.  He once trimmed a tree at our front door into oblivion.  All that remains is a decorative stump.

But enough yard history.  Today the heat is pleasant and bearable, so I ventured out amongst the squabbling magpies and got it done.

Before:

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After:
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Note the top of the fence for reference.

Before:
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After:
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Note the bottom of the kitchen window. Please do not note the dead grass. I’m not watering it, it’s only grass and it’s in the backyard and the magpies don’t care and neither do I.

I was hoping these picture would be more indicative of what a difference all my hard work filling TWO green bins with branches made.  I guess you will just have to take my word for it because I’m not sharing pics of my scratched up arms.  Now I will be spending the rest of the day brushing imaginary twigs and bugs off my body.

Happy 4th of July to all my American friends! I imagine your day has been slightly more interesting than mine because fireworks.  Yea!  Don’t set the grass on fire.

Art du Jour 69

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It’s too hot to breathe. I am tucking the memory of these scorched summer days deep in my brain so I can pop them up for perusal next January.

See, that wasn’t really complaining, was it? And I drummed up sufficient ambition to complete this big canvas using my ripped up book as a base. Even though the temperature in my house has climbed to 26 and it feels like well over 30 outside.

The interesting thing about this mixed media piece is how the ink bled up through the white texture paste, so I just let it be.  Happy accident, pulling the base colours up to the surface.

Anyway, it’s too hot to talk about it.  I need more ice.  And I would like to get back to watching a documentary about Nina Simone.  It could never be too hot for that.

Hotest Hot Vs. Coldest Cold

Which one is worse? Worse for what? They’re both the worst for different reasons. Extreme anything is always worse than things in moderation. Extremes tend to make people extremely cranky. Would you rather build a snowman on your front lawn or a sandcastle on the beach? Crank up the heat or crank up the air conditioning?

I don’t like the cold and the snow and seeing my breath in the air. I don’t like how the snow crunches under my feet at 40 below and how the house cracks and groans and how the furnace won’t stop running, and how the heating bill (and the heat) go through the roof. I don’t like winter driving on ice and how sometimes it feels like my tires have frozen into squares, and scraping off the windshield and stomping the snow off my boots and putting on and taking off layers of bulky clothing and still having popsicle fingers and toes.

What I do like about extreme cold is looking at it from the inside out (with a furnace that never stops running of course.) A warm fire and some candles burning, a cozy throw, a good book, a hot drink. I’d be happy to spend the entire month of January every year here inside my nice warm house and never venture out into the freezing cold at all. I don’t like it when my nose gets cold and my eyeballs freeze and my lungs hurt.

I guess I’ve never really experienced extreme heat for very long, since way up here in the frozen north we’re not even sure we know what that is. For a few days one summer our temperatures reached 45 degrees celsius. That’s well over 100 fahrenheit. And too damned hot. Especially for sleeping. Unless there’s a turbo fan pointed directly at your head. When I fly to Ontario in the summer the heat and the humidity seem somehow much worse than our dry windy heat here in the west. It definitely does unfortunate things to my hair.

Everyone at work has been complaining lately that they’re keeping it way too hot in the building. It makes us tired and lethargic. We yawn a lot. We feel strangely moist. Ewww. Not sure what will happen when the cold weather actually sets in – perhaps we’ll be slow cooked. More likely they’ll shut the heat right down to minimum and we’ll be wearing woolen scarves and ear muffs and gloves huddled at our computers shivering ourselves to death.

What’s the BEST thing about extreme weather? We get to COMPLAIN our butts off about it. We get to form fierce opinions about what we hate. We can strike up conversations with complete strangers because they’re sure to commiserate. Some like it hot. Some like it cold. Bitching about whatever it is never gets old. Poetry for the masses.

Give me extreme fog and drizzle with intermittent bursts of misty sunshine. Right now I can’t think of anything bad to say about weather like that. I can breathe in that atmosphere and it feels good on my skin. And everyone’s hair will look like hell, so the state of mine will cease to matter.

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Love to Hate

Well here’s a full-bodied character. He’s the alien I didn’t write about yesterday. It’s hot and he’s sweating profusely and very pissed off at himself and the planet earth in general. Lost his space ship in the parking lot somewhere. Don’t you hate it when that happens?

I don’t want to write about aliens and hateful characters because today I feel like deciding what I’d name a boat if I had one. And actually I DO have one, sort of, although it’s not exclusively mine, but a family owned pontoon boat which we refer to as the Good Ship Lollipop. I think it deserves to be called something more original than that.

So that’s what my brain is going to focus on today, and not the personality traits of aliens and why we have the oh-so-annoying human habit of wanting to hate things for pleasure. Sorry, guy on the bench who is probably a really sweet man and was born and raised in Winnipeg.

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