I have never been a fan of saunas. I know they're supposed to open your pores, speed up your metabolism, ease aching muscles, and do a bunch of other stuff that's theoretically good for you but I've never been able to spend more than a couple of minutes in one of them before walking briskly (I'm too sweaty to run) for the nearest air-conditioner.
Today, all I have to do to get those sauna benefits is walk outside my house. The temperature is scheduled to be in the upper 90's and tomorrow is supposed to reach 100 with heat indexes around 115. That is treading dangerously toward Hades Country and I, like most people with an ounce of common sense, am not digging it.
As someone who lives in an area that gets down to twenty below zero wind chills in January and February, I always promise myself that I will not complain when it gets toasty in July and August. And I usually don't but, c'mon, how does anyone (I'm talking to you Arizona and Nevada) function for more than a few minutes in an environment that saps every ounce of energy out of you within ten seconds of entering it?
What I have to do is remind myself to be grateful; grateful I was born in 1953 instead of 1853. Every time I watch an old western and see women walking around in those long-sleeved blouses with collars up to their chins and heavy skirts that dragged around enough dust to fill a Dyson, I feel incredibly lucky. Those poor things didn't have the luxury to escape to their air-conditioned cabins or carriages; they couldn't even grab a few pieces of ice from their freezer to toss under those petticoats. No, they were stuck with being miserable until: a) cooler weather moved in or b) a bout of typhoid or diptheria wiped out the town. Either way, it was a no-win situation.
So I guess I'll just use this opportunity to walk around in my skimpiest clothing (sorry, world), take care of things that need doing in my almost comfortable (after two additions of freon to our aging air-conditioner) home, write as much as I can, and count my blessings that I don't have a construction job.
If I play my cards right, I might even get through this heatwave without resorting to slipping those ice cubes down my shorts.
Thursday, July 21, 2016
Friday, July 1, 2016
The First Time Again
Today was my grandson's first visit to a zoo. And while this little park district animal habitat wannabe was hardly a worthy introduction to the world of incarcerated wildlife compared to places like Brookfield and Lincoln Park, his mom and I thought it was a fine place to start (especially when considering the cost - nada). So, we packed him in his car seat, shoved the stroller in the back of my SUV, and headed out on our little adventure.
It's not hard to enjoy any outing when it's your first time out of the house in a week (thank you, sweet grandchild, for sharing your lovely summer cold with me) but I have to say I was pleasantly surprised by how beautiful our destination turned out to be. Nestled in the trees adjacent to a small golf course, the zoo (previously unknown to me) occupied a small corner of the extensive park location that also included numerous picnic benches and several playground areas. Blessed with an unbelievably pleasant July 1 Chicago day, we planted our very willing subject in his royal throne and proceeded to hike up the hill to the first animal enclosure.
First up were a couple of bald eagles. Feeling incredibly sad that these magnificent creatures were sitting on a couple of tree branches unable to spread their wings and get the hell out of there, I was encouraged to read the sign that said neither one was actually able to fly for one reason or another but they still looked pretty darn miserable having to be our morning entertainment. My grandson, however, looked anything but miserable. While he certainly couldn't have been described as "delighted" at the sight of them, he was something else - "interested; very, very interested".
As we moved around the other enclosures, he stopped to point to and try to pronounce the name of every creature he encountered from a peacock to an otter. He even made an elephant noise at the sight of a statue of a mastodon (don't ask). By the time we entered the reptile house, where he got a chance to get up close and personal with a couple of turtles and an alligator that gave his mom and I the creeps after that horrible Florida incident, he was completely enthralled. And so were we.
For the first time in a very, very long time, I got to enjoy a child's first meeting with some new members of his ever-expanding world and it only made me more excited to be with him for all the introductions that lie ahead. Watching his little face try to make sense of what he was experiencing and then turning to share it with his mom and me only made me hungry for more.
So, I hope and pray that I'm around for that first train ride or his first trip to the Planetarium or even his obligatory meeting with Mickey Mouse. I hope I get to share the moment he sees his favorite animated characters on a gigantic movie screen, tastes double-chocolate chip ice-cream for the first time, or watches fireworks light up the sky (I think I have a pretty good chance at that one).
This little guy makes everything old new again. And who wouldn't want to hang around with someone who can do that?
It's not hard to enjoy any outing when it's your first time out of the house in a week (thank you, sweet grandchild, for sharing your lovely summer cold with me) but I have to say I was pleasantly surprised by how beautiful our destination turned out to be. Nestled in the trees adjacent to a small golf course, the zoo (previously unknown to me) occupied a small corner of the extensive park location that also included numerous picnic benches and several playground areas. Blessed with an unbelievably pleasant July 1 Chicago day, we planted our very willing subject in his royal throne and proceeded to hike up the hill to the first animal enclosure.
First up were a couple of bald eagles. Feeling incredibly sad that these magnificent creatures were sitting on a couple of tree branches unable to spread their wings and get the hell out of there, I was encouraged to read the sign that said neither one was actually able to fly for one reason or another but they still looked pretty darn miserable having to be our morning entertainment. My grandson, however, looked anything but miserable. While he certainly couldn't have been described as "delighted" at the sight of them, he was something else - "interested; very, very interested".
As we moved around the other enclosures, he stopped to point to and try to pronounce the name of every creature he encountered from a peacock to an otter. He even made an elephant noise at the sight of a statue of a mastodon (don't ask). By the time we entered the reptile house, where he got a chance to get up close and personal with a couple of turtles and an alligator that gave his mom and I the creeps after that horrible Florida incident, he was completely enthralled. And so were we.
For the first time in a very, very long time, I got to enjoy a child's first meeting with some new members of his ever-expanding world and it only made me more excited to be with him for all the introductions that lie ahead. Watching his little face try to make sense of what he was experiencing and then turning to share it with his mom and me only made me hungry for more.
So, I hope and pray that I'm around for that first train ride or his first trip to the Planetarium or even his obligatory meeting with Mickey Mouse. I hope I get to share the moment he sees his favorite animated characters on a gigantic movie screen, tastes double-chocolate chip ice-cream for the first time, or watches fireworks light up the sky (I think I have a pretty good chance at that one).
This little guy makes everything old new again. And who wouldn't want to hang around with someone who can do that?
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