Friday, February 24, 2012

Half-time & Humidity, Heaven & Hell

Half-time.

Not the show between football's 2nd & 3rd quarter where Madonna, Nicki Minaj and Cee Lo break it down. But,
that age bracket between being younger and older.
Mid-life, middle age, hot flashes. When the latter exists with the dense humidity of Florida weather it is

Not a good combination.

It's this panicky sense of suffocating when brick-oven heat of the body, waves of warmth emanating from flushed skin, is met with the torrid dampness of breathless air. You are trapped! Confined to a locked sauna, simmering in a lidded pan of steamed tomatoes, capped tightly in a bottle of hot sauce.

Hot flashes + humidity = personal hell.

Funny that the Bermuda triangle isn't far from this southernmost part of the continent, the purported portal into the devious place. We live in precarious proximity to Hades.The conjectured doorway of that burning abode is way too close for comfort. It's so hot here, I wouldn't be surprised if some canal connected us to it, some underground steamy river lead to its hungry gate.

Florida was not made for women in mid-life.

Not sure if it was made for any human form. Maybe for armadillos, anhingas and alligators. But not for Homo Sapiens.

The masses only migrated when the miracle of air conditioners became widespread in the 60's. Northerners came to escape their eternal winters. Only then did the climate become tolerable except for during the short winter months.

God knows how the native Americans and the early twentieth century settlers survived it!! Perhaps because they stayed coastal. But even an Atlantic beach residence is belying. No climate relief there. Just more sultry air with a generous pinch of salt. Not like the California coast where the Arctic current tempers the arid land, and turns desert days into refreshing evenings.

The A/C runs 24/7 except for the sweet month of February when the hot wet air leaves for a few weeks. One can open their windows , enjoy gardening and outdoor activities without becoming a ball of sweat or having to resist the indecent urge to lift your blouse to air your belly or the temptation to toss the top off entirely.

So 10 months out of the year the ceiling fan saves my sleep and the thermostat on 75 saves my days. I will survive the hormonal havoc somehow. My Massachusetts/California bred mother
said that living in FL was like living in a warm, wet sponge. She could only stand it for two years, then fled back to San Diego.

Maybe someday I'll hop a plane home to California. You'll find me in Balboa, Laguna or Huntington. Just try to pry me off the beach. I'll stroll the shore and when the internal heat wave assaults, I'll be cool and comfortable thanks to that heavenly Pacific breeze.

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