Posted tagged ‘humidity’
August 3, 2015
I should have done something illegal so I could count all these days inside as house arrest. This morning I gave the day a chance but it failed. I opened doors and windows but the house got warm far too quickly; however, the paper’s weather prediction does offer some hope: a late-night thunderstorm and another one tomorrow. Thursday and Friday will drop to the 70’s during the day and the mid 60’s at night. I can hardly wait. Today looks lovely from the window view. The sun is bright and there is a breeze. What you can’t see is the humidity hanging in the air.
I look at the obits, not all of them, just the headlines. Fame is relative so I don’t know most of the people highlighted who were well-known on the Cape. They all seem to have lasted a long time. 80+ is the average. The only obits I notice in the Globe are those of famous people. Cilla Black died yesterday. She was 72. My first thought was how young she was, a reaction which has to do with my age and thinking of myself as still young.
My generation sees age very differently than previous generations. One of my friends will be 70 this year. When my grandparents were 70, I thought them quite old. They looked old and dressed old. I couldn’t imagine being 70. I wondered how it felt and whether or not it was scary. I believed it was limiting as my grandparents hardly did anything. They stayed home mostly, and we went to them.
My mother cracked the mold. She never dressed 70, and she traveled. Our last trip together was to Italy. I wanted to be just like her.
In my head I am still quite young though word retrieval is a problem and hints to my being older. I don’t think of limitations though I’m stuck with a bad back which curtails my walking. I dress exactly as I have all of my life though far more casually every day than when I worked. I don’t stop to think sometimes when I carry stuff. I forget I’m not 25 or even 55. I used to haul 50 pounds of cat litter into the house. Now I find 20 pounds a burden which leave my back aching. I am a bit surprised at that being so young and all.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 70's, age, casually dressed, cooler weather, dressing old, feeling young, hot, house arrest, humidity, looking old, obits, thunderstorm.
Comments: 10 Comments
July 31, 2015
And the heat goes on! Today is just a bit better than yesterday, and tonight is supposed to be cool. We did have some rain last night around 11:30. I don’t know how long it lasted. I know it was small rain as I was outside on the deck watching Gracie and barely got wet.
A large fly was inside the house yesterday. I hate flies. I suspect this one was logy from the cold because when it landed I was able to sneak attack and whack it with my hand. No more fly!
I wish I could describe the excitement I had when I was flying over the Sahara on my way to Ghana. It was like seeing my geography book come alive. I almost couldn’t believe it was the Sahara below the plane. It seemed more like a dream. Seeing it got me even more excited because it meant we were getting closer to Ghana. I had no idea what to expect from Ghana. The books I read had described the country, but then it was my imagination, my mind’s eye, which conjured the way I thought it might look. Exotic came to mind. A place different in every way from the familiar was the overwhelming thought. In many ways I wasn’t wrong.
The first few days were filled with eye-opening sights. The compounds, not houses but compounds, had tin roofs rusted by the rain. My whiteness was an attraction. Everywhere I went a parade followed. I met a chief, a real African chief. All the sights, sounds and smells overwhelmed me. I couldn’t process fast enough. I almost needed to pinch myself. I was really in Africa.
One of the first lessons I learned in Ghana was not to have expectations but rather to take everything as it came. I didn’t grouse about what I didn’t have. That was the key to living happily. I didn’t like the flies and I wasn’t thrilled about peeing in a hole, but they were part of life for me. I swatted the flies and aimed well at the hole. I came to love Ghanaian food and wore dresses of Ghanaian cloth. My sandals had soles made of tire rubber by the man in the market, sort of an outdoor cobbler. I rode in crowded lorries and buses and ate food sold along the roadside. I never gave any of it a second thought. I was home.
Sometimes even now I am amazed I went to Africa. I can’t remember what made me at twenty-one willing to go, to leave everyone and everything behind me. Whatever it was, I am forever thankful.
Categories: Musings
Tags: African chief, compounds, desert, expectations, flies, Ghana, heat, humidity, Sahara, sights, unfamiliar, whiteness
Comments: 2 Comments
July 28, 2015
The weather is still ghastly. I was out on the deck to fill the bird feeders and, despite a small breeze, the air was thick and heavy with moisture. I have to water the deck plants every day or they wilt and look untended as if for a long time. Gracie rings the bells, goes out, sniffs the air then wants back inside. I have learned to stand and wait for her.
When I was a kid, I feared nothing except that guy with the hook my father told us about. Any scratch on the window pane or the screen sent me frantically looking for a hiding place before the hook man worked his way inside the house. I don’t know how old I was before I realized the hook man wasn’t real. He was the main character in a story concocted, I thought, by my father. Much later I found out it was not my father’s story but was an urban myth.
It is much easier living without when you have no idea what you’re missing. When I was in Ghana, the only electrical appliances I had were a fridge and a cassette player. I realized I didn’t need gadgets. Turn the clock ahead to now, and I live in a house filled with gadgets. Some are essential, like the stove, while others, like my iPod, give life dimension. The rest could be replaced by two hands working. My electric can opener died so I now use the old silver one you wind around the top of the can. I just have to be careful not to cut my fingers or have the top fall into the can. I do some chopping by hand, and I sweep the kitchen floor, but mostly I use machines. They have become part of my life again.
I hope to go back to Ghana next year. When I do, I’ll sleep in an air-conditioned room. I don’t think I could sleep without it in the heat. I’ll rent a car with air-conditioning. I think I’ve already paid my dues riding in cramped lorries for hours and hours at a time way back when. As for the rest, it will be as it was. I’ll shop in the market in the coolest part of the day, the morning, but it will still be hot. I’ll use a hole in the ground if I have to. I still have skills. I’ll chop and mash food. I’ll survive without all the gadgets. I still remember how.
Categories: Musings
Tags: gadgets, ghastly weather, hand work, humidity, man with the hook, watering the plants
Comments: 10 Comments
July 27, 2015
I stood it as long as I could. I watched the thermostat go from 72 to 76 in a matter of an hour or so. When the house started to close in, I did it. I turned on the air conditioning.
Today defines humid. The air is thick and still. I think there was a bit of rain earlier as the deck was damp, but under the umbrella was dry so the rain was light and quickly came and went. I do have something on my list today, but I’m hedging and thinking tomorrow. The more comfortable I get, the less inclined I am to move. I do have the laundry going: a load in the washer and another in the dryer. The laundry bag sat by the cellar door for two days, and that was enough to motivate me. Usually I don’t move until I am just about out of unmentionables.
I am most decidedly spoiled. Life is so easy. If I’m hot, on goes the AC. If I’m cold, I raise the thermostat. My car, like most of ours, has AC so I run from the car to the store which also has AC. I get my groceries delivered right to my kitchen. Roseanna and Lee come and clean every two weeks. My yard, deck and lawn are tended to every Friday. After the lawn is cut and the walkway trimmed, the deck is blown free of debris, especially acorns. Some of them are half eaten so I think they are the red spawn’s revenge. He probably roars laughing when I step on one and howl.
When I was a kid, everyone pretty much complained about the heat. It was a local pastime. The old “hot enough for you?” was often asked though no one expected an answer. It was the summer rhetorical question. Jumping over the sprinkle was a common remedy against the heat. The water always felt really cold at first, soothing. Sometimes we’d walk to the town pool, but we also had to walk back which defeated the purpose of getting cool at the pool. We never stayed home, though, heat or not. That just wasn’t done in summer. Every day had to be lived to its fullest.
In Ghana, I encountered HEAT. Day after day was often over 100˚. My shower had no hot water, but I didn’t care. A cold shower was relief. It was like jumping over the sprinkler. We never really complained, but we did use the old “hot enough for you?” mostly as a joke. I didn’t even have a fan, didn’t think to buy one. Traveling was best done at night or in the early morning because being crammed into a lorry was never pleasant and sitting next to a window never really helped. But again, we didn’t complain. We accepted our lot and just did the best we could.
Now I complain and whine. I am getting older and believe both are my due.
Categories: Musings
Tags: 100˚, AC, cold shower, complaining about the heat, crammed lorry, Ghana, grocery delivery, Hot enough for you?, housecleaner, humidity, spoiled life, stepping on acorns, still and hot, thick air, yard man
Comments: 14 Comments
July 19, 2015
This morning is oppressive. The air is perfectly still. The sun has disappeared and reappeared. The humidity is 84%. Rain is predicted for tomorrow through Tuesday. We’ll just have to survive today.
Movie night was perfect. There was a breeze keeping us cool, and we had plenty of appetizers to stave off hunger. We didn’t even eat the hot dogs, linguica and salads I had bought for dinner, but we did manage to eat the apple pie for dessert.
I can hear only birds. My neighborhood is quiet. The other day I heard the buzzing of saws most of the day. My neighbor’s huge tree from her front yard was taken down. Now the yard looks bare. You know something is missing.
Every morning I checkout my front garden. New blossoms pop open every day. Today there were tall purple like daisies standing by the fence. Some white flowers are also blooming and two huge clumps of flowers are just about ready to open. I do love watching the progress of my flowers.
Last night, around 1:30, I sent Gracie out for her last time before bed. She stood perfectly still at the top of the stairs then took off like a flash. It was her intruder run. I put on my shoes and was going to the yard to grab her, or even save her, when the rustling of leaves just below the deck told me Gracie was already on her way to the stairs. It was then I heard the hoots of an owl, the first ever here. After Gracie arrived on the deck and stood beside me, we stayed a while.
Categories: Musings
Tags: appies, apple pie, front garden, Gracie, humidity, intruder, linguica, movie night, new flowers, owl hooting, purple like daisies, rain tomorrow, still air
Comments: 6 Comments
July 17, 2015
My house was only 66˚ when I woke up. In the winter that’s cold but during this time of year it’s a pleasant, lovely morning. Today will be in the 70’s, but tomorrow the humidity will return with stifling air which will make moving uncomfortable and sweaty. No one is attractive in the humidity. We all wilt. Sunday will be the same but with a probability of rain.
My mother was always cold. She kept her house in the 70’s during the winter. The rest of us wore t-shirts and sandals and light pants. Her house was almost tropical. We complained, and she hated it when we did. Now, as I get older, I understand. Each winter I am colder than I had been the winter before. I keep the house at the same temperature it has been for years, but I need a sweatshirt. Long sleeves used to be enough. I think I am becoming my mother.
The other day my former Ghanaian student Franciska called. She likes to check to make sure I am doing well. She calls me her mother though I am only seven years older than she, but motherhood, to her, is a matter of principal, not age. I was her teacher, and that is enough to bestow motherhood on me.
When I am with Franciska, I notice she talks to anyone she can. She also introduces me to her new friends as her mother. They look a bit bewildered until Franciska explains I was her Peace Corps teacher 45 years ago. I cringe at the 45 but love that Peace Corps gets into the conversation. Anything that promotes the Peace Corps is just fine with me. Franciska often tells me she is still bewildered as to why volunteers actually agreed to go to Bolga. She says even Ghanaians don’t like Bolga. It is flat, almost treeless and hot, really hot, in the dry season. Back in my day there were no creature comforts, but I always figured that was just part of the Peace Corps experience: you take, even embrace, what you’re given.
My list is long today-errand day. I have four stops and not a single one of them is fun or exciting. Where’s the Ferris wheel when you need one?
Categories: Musings
Tags: beautiful day, cold winter, errand day, Ghana, hot, hot in the house, humidity, Peace Corps, pleasant moring, rain showers, stifling, sweatshirt, wilting in the heat
Comments: 6 Comments
July 12, 2015
The air conditioner is keeping the humidity at bay, but I feel a bit like a hermit. The closed windows and doors isolate me. No outside sounds, no people can be heard. Rod Serling could be standing in front of a camera on the front steps to introduce this episode of The Twilight Zone. I can hear him now,”Inside this house Kathleen Ryan sits in isolation, comfortable and cool and totally unaware that the world outside her walls has changed, but soon enough she’ll know she has entered The Twilight Zone.”
The morning is sunny with a slight breeze, but I can already feel the heat when I open the door to let Gracie in and out. According to the weather in the paper, the humidity will start to lessen tomorrow.
I don’t remember the weather being such a complicated topic when I was a kid. It was hot or cold or comfortable. There were no ten-day forecasts or drawings of cold fronts sweeping down from Canada. Forecasting was iffy at best, and the weatherman, always a man back then, was the target when his forecast went awry, and it went awry often. The best way to check the weather was to walk outside.
We seldom got sick when I was growing up. I think it had to do with the world being far less sanitized than it is now. We did get measles, mumps and chicken pox, but those were expected and there was nothing you could do about them. The worst was the itch from chicken pox. My mother went crazy making sure we didn’t scratch, “Do you want scars all over your face?” Then there was the possibility of blindness from measles. My mother kept the shades down and muted the light from the lamp by covering the shade. I couldn’t read or watch TV so lying in bed doing nothing made having measles seem interminable. The only thing I remember about the mumps is how huge my face and neck felt. I don’t know who brought home the mumps first but all four if us got sick at just about the same time. All I can think of is my poor mother!
Categories: Musings
Tags: air-conditioning, children's diseases, forecast, hermit, hot, humidity, Measles, Twilight Zone, weatherman
Comments: 6 Comments
July 7, 2015
Summer, I believe, has finally arrived. It has brought beautiful mornings, hot and humid afternoons and tolerable nights for sleeping, at least tolerable so far. Yesterday afternoon, though, the humidity became stifling. No breeze blew to push away the moisture. I turned on the air conditioner, and the house became comfortable. Gracie and I both settled in for an afternoon nap in the coolness of the bedroom.
This morning I turned the AC off and opened all the windows. I didn’t want to miss the smell of morning with its scent of flowers and mowed grass and sometimes even the salt air of the sea. Through the opened windows, I heard the songs of the different birds from trees in the front yard and easily recognized the song of the chickadees, my most frequent visitors, then I heard a metal clank sound which I ignored. When I heard it a second time, I recognized the sound as coming from the half-sized metal barrel where I keep the bird seed. I went on the deck to check it out, and the red spawn scurried away from the barrel and off the deck. The barrel cover was off and was lying beside the barrel. Several sunflower kernels were strewn around the bottom of the barrel. The spawn had found the mother lode. I put the cover back on the barrel and put two bricks on it. I figured that would keep the spawn away unless he platooned his buddies, and they all lent their paws to the effort.
I am waiting for Comcast to come to fix my phone line. During the conversation yesterday with Comcast I wished more times than I can remember that I had the power to put my hand through the receiver and grab the so-called Comcast technician and throttle him. I had opened the conversation with him by explaining that my phone line did not work. I told him I had tested the phone by connecting its line to the modem and the phone worked so I knew the problem was the line. He started to ask questions phrased as if to a five-year old. I interrupted him and said I had explained the problem and didn’t a walk-through from him. He then said he would reset the modem. I slowly explained it wasn’t the modem. It was the line coming from the wall. He then asked a few more questions, all of which had been answered in my first explanation. He then concluded my phone was not working. I told him I was talking to him on that non-working phone. He paused and then told me to remove the line from the modem and reconnect it to the wall. I explained the call would end once I did that. He took my cell number, and when the phone went dead, he called me back on my cell. It was 25 minutes from the start of the call when he said I think there is something wrong with your phone line.
Categories: Musings
Tags: afternoon nap, Air conditioner, bird seed, Comcast, humidity, metal barrel, morning air, mother lode, red spawn, ridiculous questions, salt air, so-called technicians, stifling, summer weather
Comments: 12 Comments
June 22, 2015
The sun is in and out this morning trying to decide what to do. The air is still damp and a bit humid. Right now the sky is dark but the sun is peeking through. Rain is predicted for this afternoon so I’m thinking the sun will disappear for good a bit later.
It is officially summer, and it’s barbecue time. Bring out the ribs, the burgers and the chicken wings then add some sweet summer corn. My home-grown tomatoes are getting bigger on the vine and before too long they’ll be red ripe. July 4th is opening night at the movies. I have three possibilities on the ballot: Independence Day, Jaws and 1776. I’m leaning toward Jaws as it is celebrating its 40th birthday. “We need a bigger boat,” says it all. I have decorations and sparklers and I’m working on the menu. Red, white and blue will carry the day!
Memory is an odd thing. I have vivid memories of my childhood, but I sometimes hunt high and low for where I put my glasses. Some singular moments stand out from all the others, and I don’t know why. They aren’t particularly important moments, but they stay prominent regardless. One memory is silly. I was on the plane to Ghana and we stopped in Madrid. When we got back on the plane, my seatbelt was caught between the seat and the wall so I couldn’t use it. I pretended I was belted when the stewardess went around checking seatbelts. I don’t know why I just didn’t ask for help.
I sat in the back of the room when I was in the sixth grade, but in the front of the room when I was in the eighth. Neither really matters, but I still remember how the rooms looked from each perspective. I remember the candy counter at the movie theater. My favorite nickel bar of candy was a Welch’s Fudge Bar. They aren’t around anymore. My second favorite was a Skybar. You can still buy one of those. The fudge square was my favorite, probably still is. I remember how funny my feet felt in shoes after ice skating. My bologna sandwiches were misshapen because I had to cut pieces from a roll of bologna and some pieces were thick while others were too thin.
I can still close my eyes and see and describe places as they were. I don’t think of it as a trip down memory lane but rather as an adventure back in time.
Categories: Musings
Tags: Barbecue, bologna sandwiches, childhood, damp, Elementary school, humidity, July 4th, memories, movie night, planes and seatbelts, red, Skybar, sparklers, summer, sun, tomaotoes, vivid memories, vivid pictures, Welch's Fudge Bar, white and blue
Comments: 14 Comments
May 28, 2015
The wind is gone, replaced by still, humid air. We may have rain later today, but the clouds right now look more like your usual hanging-around clouds. I have a few errands today. Yesterday was around the house day. I fixed the cabinet door for about the fourth time, watered all the plants and scrubbed the deck table and chairs. The deck is ready should the weather be inviting.
You’d think living in Africa would have made me inured to bugs. It didn’t. I am ever sensitive to crawly things. This morning I felt something on my arm. It was a tick, now deceased. I am still grossed out. The dog has none. I check her all the time. Now I have to keep checking myself.
The spiders are active. I saw a huge one I recognized as having once starred in his own scifi movie, and I saw baby spiders starting webs on the windowsill plants. The strands go from frond to frond. I don’t hurt spiders, but I do clear out their webs. I think my house would like Miss Haversham’s in a short time if I didn’t. The other day a spider was on a jar on the counter. I took him outside and shook him loose. Faster than a speeding bullet he slid down to the deck on a strand he had just made.
When I was a kid, I loved watching bugs. At the swamp, dragonflies, darning needles to us, flitted and zig-zagged across the water. They were all sorts of colors, and I remember how their wings seemed to shine and reflect the sun. Snakes, especially garden snakes, were common. They’d be in the garden, and we’d give chase, not to hurt them but to watch them slither. I always thought that was pretty neat.
In Ghana I saw poisonous snakes for the first time. I remember my students pegging rocks into the bushes outside the classroom block. I asked why. “To kill the snake, madam.” One of my hens lost a chick a day probably to snakes. That hen quickly became dinner. I saw a boa once and once was enough.
My friend Christer’s special guy Hector, “Isn’t around anymore.” Loving and being loved by a dog is wonderfully amazing. A dog loves you no matter what. Gracie’s stubby tail wags and wags when I talk to her. She looks into my face as if she understands every word. The only problem is dogs don’t live as long as we do. I am so very sorry, Christer.
Categories: Musings
Tags: cloudy, crawly things, humidity, Miss Haversham, poisonous snakes, snakes, spiders, still day, ticks, webs
Comments: 16 Comments
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