It is late afternoon or early evening here in Lakeside. It’s hard to call, because the time passed six pm Mountain Time half an hour ago but the temperature is still at mid-day level, at 90. This has been the hottest summer on record for most of the United States, and we are no exceptions up here. Normally, 90 plus days happen half a dozen times during the summer up here, and most of us don’t bother with air conditioning. This summer, days under 90 have been rare.
I keep remembering a funny image once conveyed to me: cooling off in the living room by sitting in a splash pool, three or four floor fans going, and watching a movie set somewhere in the frozen north. Something like “The Golden Compass” or “Ice Station Zebra.”
Instead, I’m watching “Rizzoli and Isles,” under a ceiling fan with my laptop on top of my lap where it belongs. I haven’t been doing much in the way of writing lately, or campaigning, for that matter. I have been busy and feeling good about that, but for the time being the writing has taken second or third spot. There’s been quite a bit of that lately, and I’m not sure why. Part of it is the nature of the beast – writing seems to come in spurts of creative energy. Part of it is the rewrite phase, about which I have written before. Part of it is the heat.
I just figure that the material is there, and when I am ready to tackle it, it will be ready for me. There is comfort in that. And joy.