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Saturday, July 23, 2011

I Just Checked, And My Driveway Has Not Turned To Magma



Hmmm. "Horrid Heat" "100 percent hot."

I live in Maine. Nothing in the US is more east than Maine. Nothing much in the US is more north than Maine, except Alaska, of course, and close to a tie with a little of Minnesota and Washington. Maine is the same size in area as Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, New Hampshire and Vermont combined. I'm looking at that picture, and I see Delaware, and Maryland, and Virginia, and even a little of West Virginia, not one of which is even in the Northeast, but no Maine.

But the headline gods must be obeyed, and the third stone from the sun must be nudged into Mercury's orbit in the newspaper to get a rise out of people. Information and geography be damned. Here's today's weather report. It's 69 degrees right now at 9:50 AM. That's 69 Farenheit, not Celsius or Kelvin as you've been led to believe.

It was 20 below zero one morning here last winter. I'm perfectly sanguine with the weather right now, thank you very much.

One of the simplest ways to determine how intelligent your living arrangements are is to count how many months you can live comfortably in your house by simply opening and closing the windows and removing or adding a garment. According to people that make maps for the weather report, I live in: HERE BE MONSTERS, USA, and I'm perfectly happy 7 months out of 12 with no mechanical contrivance to adjust the temperature in my house but a box fan in a window now and then. Hell, we don't even need a light fixture on during the day in any room in the house for 6 months a year. My workshop wouldn't even need much artificial light in it if the previous denizens (stoned or insane, take your pick) hadn't removed a dozen windows and boarded them up. You know, to "save energy." I can't help but notice that "saving energy" really means "relying on energy for everything at all times and in all places to reinforce a total war on nature, and then talking endlessly about rationing it for everyone else."

Open a window in your life. It smells stale in there.

[Updated: Reader and commenter Robin wanted a hit of Coos Canyon. I'm fairly certain the snowbank is melted now, but don't hold me to it]


[Uppity-Update, Sunday, 7-24-2011, 9:00 AM]

The Weather Channel doubles down on stupid:

Well, whaddya know, they finally show Maine, with a big, fat 92 over it. "Hot Steamy Northeast." Ah, weather porn. But just like the women in real porn, the temperature is just not that into you when the camera's off. 92? That's an interesting number. 92F would be the record high temp for today. Well, it would be interesting -- if I wasn't wearing a long sleeve shirt right now with all the windows open.


Today's forecast, from the same people but off the main page, is for temps three degrees below average for the date. Keep ****ing that chicken, fellas.

5 comments:

Mizz E said...

High of 88 today. Y'all are moving up into siesta territory. During the summer I spent at Haystack (on Deere Isle, ME) it never rose above 70, which felt chilly to this Texas girl. It was especially chilly on the days I wouldn't rise early enough to make dibs on the only outdoor potter's wheel that got the midday sun. Fond memories.

Robin said...

I'm sitting in Kansas where it is 105 in the shade. I'm thinking about Coos Canyon. Sitting on a rock with my feet in the cool water. I feel better. Thank you.

SippicanCottage said...

Hi Mizz E- Thanks for reading and commenting.

Hi Robin- Coos Canyon, coming up.

BrettonPoint said...

Sitting here eating my second bowl of ice cream, ok ok my third bowl of ice cream and agreeing with the comments on too hot or nodding my head at too cold. Please, just keep my ice cream cold and the Red Sox on Tv!

Dan D said...

Maine is fortunate. In Pennsylvania it has been brutally hot. I postponed a trip to Maryland and instead went deep into the northern mountains, in the wild Pine Creek Gorge and the vast woods of Potter County, normally the coolest part of the entire state. Friday it was 105 Farenheit in the darkest mountain glades. At least the rattlesnakes and deer flies were having a jolly old day of activity.