It’s too hot to write. I think I’ll sit here and melt.
Tag: heat
Where I’d Like to Be Right Now
I’m sitting at home again today, cowering in the air conditioning because “it’s going to be another hot one,” in Midwest parlance. I’m listening to playlists that help me concentrate, hoping they’ll inspire me to finish the last three chapters of Carrying Light.
There’s a list of where I’d like to be right now:
- At The Elms, enjoying time in the Grotto;
- At Broadway Cafe in Kansas City with noise in the background;
- At Wild Horse Pass resort in Arizona having a drink in the swimming pool;
- In a cabin at Mozingo Lake, on a writing retreat;
- Sitting on a couch anywhere that doesn’t encourage slouching;
- At a cat cafe, self-explanatory;
- In a camper at Mozingo Lake, just because it would be different;
- At Starved Rock State Park, except for all the crowds.
Where I do not want to be:
- OUTSIDE.
The Heat
Can I just stay inside?
The weather outside is hot. By hot, I mean 105 degree heat index, 100 degrees actual. A July sort of thing, not a June thing. I get sick from the heat easily, so my strategy has been to stay in the air conditioner and NOT. GO. OUTSIDE.
The point of no return?
I wonder if we’re past the point of no return when it comes to climate change. If these patches of extreme heat are our “new normal”. Gardens will wither and winters will be frigid and snowy.
My psychiatrist is a bit more sanguine about climate change. He’s a libertarian and a fervent believer is progress, and he believes that scientists will find a solution, just as they did (partially) with the ozone hole. I hope he’s right — I think the wind farms that surround us may be part of the answer.
A reprieve
The weather is supposed to clear by tomorrow, greeting us with temperatures in the 60s and 70s. I will celebrate by going to the cafe and visiting an intern on Wednesday in Kansas City.
How hot is it where you live?
Let me know!
Cold is the absence of heat
I don’t know when I learned that cold was the absence of heat, but I suspect it was during a grade school science class. They never gave me an explanation of why in school, so I looked it up.
It turns out that heat comes from kinetic energy; that is, the movement of molecules. The faster they vibrate, the hotter it gets. We as humans become warm because heat sources (themselves quickly vibrating the molecules of air) transfer warmth to us.
If cold is the absence of warmth (pardon the switching up of the synonym; I have a purpose), then how does this translate to people and relationships?
I think the metaphor works well. Someone who is cold seems elementally so; without movement, glacial, without emotion (which could be considered heat).
I think about this because I have a character in the Christmas romance I’m writing, Brent Oberhauser, who believes he’s cold. The truth of the matter is that he’s trying to deny himself feelings, which is not the same thing. He has feelings; he has heat but is suppressing it.
One of the other characters, Santa Jack, points out that this isn’t true. But I don’t put in the cold/heat metaphor. Should I?
Words Like Me 