I’m leaving for Connecticut in a few hours for a three-day trip to find new digs. I’m hopeful my horrible-but-improving credit doesn’t mean I’ll be living in a trailer in the “Please-Kill” zone.
I’m leaving Oklahoma much as it will be when I return. Fucking blistering burning sizzling Rapture hot. My air conditioning and I have a pep talk every morning, and I turn it down for 20 minutes or so to let it rest a minute. Then it’s back to full-time use.
It’s been over 100 degrees in Oklahoma for 20 days straight or so. This is unusual, even for us. It reminds me of when I started the Garish Chicken — we were buried under roughly 257 inches of snow. I said then I was ready for summer. I didn’t mean THIS kind of summer.
I’m starting to think Oklahoma has an identify crisis. Desert, Vietnam-style monsoon. Desert. Flood. Tornado. Hurricane. Tornado. Blizzard. Blargh.
This heat is ree-damn-diculous. I find myself asking God — Why? Why this? Why the brown grass that’s typical of November? I don’t bother watering because hey, it means less mowing. And I know Josh, my lawn ninja (I never see him come or go) would be glad for that.
Seriously, it hasn’t rained in three weeks or more. And that was just dribble. It’s a wee bit hotter than normal in Connecticut too — like 90 or so — but today it’s 81 and rainy. I’m flying into rain, which titillates me. (tee-hee I love that word).
But I’m hoping my beloved Sooner State doesn’t just become a dried leaf of a thing hanging on the withered vine that is the torched Midwest to Mid-South. I’d like to have something to come home to. I’d like people to stay here instead of running mass-exodus style, so there will be a few good apartments in the moist Northeast for me.
Seriously, this feels like end-times heat. We have had nothing but ridiculous weather since last year. I bitched last spring (2010) about the lack of interesting weather. I take it all back now — and hope that the Weather Controllers and Comptrollers know that I was JUST TALKING SMACK. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.
I even did what Gov. Fallin said to do — I prayed for rain. Of course there is a prayer in the Episcopalian Book of Common Prayer for just such an occasion:
O God, heavenly Father, who by thy Son Jesus Christ
hast promised to all those who seek thy kingdom and its
righteousness all things necessary to sustain their life: Send
us, we entreat thee, in this time of need, such moderate rain
and showers, that we may receive the fruits of the earth, to
our comfort and to thy honor; through Jesus Christ our
I love the Book of Common Prayer. It truly covers all the bases. And yes, I realize I used the F-Word in the same blog as a prayer. I personally don’t believe God punishes us for using moderate cuss words. It’s refreshing.
OK, on that note, before this becomes a religion blog, I’ll say adieu. Please hose down the state while I’m gone.
One response to “The Brown, Brown Grass of Home”
I love that the Episcopalians make sure to pray for “moderate” rain, knowing the Lord’s sense of humor in these matters! Yeah, come on up here (I’m in northern New York) where they think 80 is hot. 🙂