No, not the wrestler. (oh, on that note, I'd like to pay my respects to the Benoit family for the loss of their son, the Crippler. My brother's name is Chris, so it was a little creepy to read the articles...and 'roid rage is a horrible thing, yes)
Hazy, Hot and Humid. Well, I can certainly attest to the fact that it's effing hot out. My run last night almost saw me taste death, as my legs gave out from dehydration at just after the 3.5 mile mark. I guess I shouldn't have pushed it so hard yesterday, knowing the humidity and heat could very well take a toll on me. I just get some sort of sick enjoyment out of generating enough sweat to fill a bathtub and take a sweat bath. I'm not sure my undercarriage holds the same enthusiasm for the sweat, though...things are always touch and go down there when it's this hot.
I always find it hard to believe the weatherman when he reports tropical dew points in Boston. The dew point last night was around 70, which is bad. Nothing like hot, moist air to get the day going. In Southie where I live, walking outside in that humidity is akin to walking into the exhaust plume of a Mack truck and sucking it down. It's hot, it kinda stinks and it just feels altogether unhealthy for you. When it's this hot out West, it just feels like you're getting more of a tan; here, you feel like you're shriveling up and dying. I got an email from my Dad this morning, mentioning that he and my mother had a devilish time sleeping last night due to the fact that they were sleeping sans A/C. Looking back, I never minded not having central air in our house. Generally, we all had a window-mounted unit that sufficed. But why in holy hell they wouldn't have theirs on last night is beyond me. Carl and I could turn our apartment into a meat locker if we wanted to, because it's balls cold in there.
I find that the best way to cool down after a long, arduous, sweaty run is to take a hot shower. Get in there with the water temperature as high as you can stomach and continue to sweat it out for a while. When you're at you absolute breaking point of overheating and you think you just might collapse, turn it down to ice cold. Next thing you know, you're in a cold shiver and Mr. Johnson has gone into hibernation. Once it gets too cold to bear, turn it halfway to hot and continue on with your normal regiment in the shower. I don't know how good this is for me, but it works. It sucks, but it works.
Something else occurred to me as I ran down the boardwalk in Southie last night. How can people eat hot, greasy food in the blazing heat of a day like yesterday? All I want to put it my body in that kind of heat is either water or something really cold. Picture a sweaty, tank top wearing, obese man waddling down the boardwalk towards me. He's got a bag of mozzarella sticks in one hand and the marinara in the other, dipping and munching with every snail-like step. He's sweating his burly ass off, but he seems utterly content with his fried friend. Content. I'm out there working my body like a cog in an assembly line and here's Tubby, feeding his face and living the dream on the boardwalk. More power to him, I guess. Hey, if you're happy with what you've got, godspeed, my friend.
I'm awaiting the first response to the suggestion for the burger patties. I'll be bringing them to a family cookout this weekend, so Dad, you'll be able to bear witness to them yourself at that time. Carl had them Monday night and he liked them so much, he went out and bought more ground turkey last night and grilled up another pound of them for his dinner last night. Another satisfied customer. So where's everyone else? You don't trust me?
5 comments:
No offense, but I can't ever remember you cooking anything, ever, for as long as I have known you. I of course respect your taste when it comes to many things, including food. Nicks, ogy. I'm sure you're burgers are great though. Can you use the same recipe without the turkey meat? New Haven has been effing sweltering as well. The whole fam went out to dinner tonight downtown. I found it particularly amusing when, after the meal, I noticed my grandmother go over to the coat check to retrieve her, um, coat. Apparently she wore a coat out to dinner in 90 degree heat and 3000% humidity. At what age does this not become a factor? I guess this is why Jerry's parents never used the AC at their house in Florida.
That's because you lived with me in the dorms, where there was no kitchen, you IDIOT. How long did I live with you, three months? I'm a culinary genius.
The coat thing is awesome, and deserves a whole blog. Do it.
Ease off on the old folks, gentlemen. When we age, our blood thins (naturally, or from medication, I don't pretend to know by which) and that leads to chills. Most old folks I know are like that. Especially the ones down in Florida.
Anyway, as for us not using the A/C the other night, ta mere absolutely refuses to let me put it into the window. However, after that night's sweat-drenched sleep, if you can call it that, she decided to purchase AG's mobil A/C last night. We drove to Revere to pick it up and I put it in our room when we returned. After about 2 hours of having it running in the room, it became apparent that the effing thing wasn't working. The room was even HOTTER than when we turned it on!!! We ended up sleeping out in the MH in the driveway. Great night's sleep last night! Now, if only they could get the A/C working at the lab, I would be in Heaven!
Glad to hear you're bringing the turkey burgers to NH Saturday. Can't wait to try one. And Ponch, French is a GREAT cook. We can't figure out where he learned to cook the way he does, but he certainly does a great job in the kitchen. Just like his two older brothers. Sa mere keeps wondering if I will ever learn to cook. No way!! I'll mow the lawn, paint, fix shit, but I ain't cookin' woman!
See Ponch? Thanks Pop...'nuff said.
I guess in blogger world your pops uses the term "effing", and calls you "French." Unreal. No offense to Mrs B, but I don't know what I would do if my wife refused AC. I'm just not myself if I don't get some solid sacktime.
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