From Zero to a Hundred-Ten

There are days when the most exciting things my wife and I do are Wordle… “Got it in four.” Ha! I got it in three.” Well, just wait until tomorrow.”

Dispense boxes of cereal into their new “ant-proof” plastic vaults… “Raisin Bran done.” “Check.” “Special K done.” “Check.” “Cheerios… ah, dang. Broom.” “Check.”

And maybe look at the temperature on the iPhone weather app… “Gonna hit 70 today. Chance of a cloud.” “A cloud. Wow!” “More tea?” “Hit me.”

And then… “Severe heat warning in Santa Barbara County for the next five days. Temps in the triple digits. Stay safe. Don’t overdo it.”

“Maybe we should take it easier,” I suggested. “We can take turns sitting in the recliner next to the fan.” I smiled proudly at my brilliant non-action plan.

“Ah,” Pat said. Not one of her most assuring utterances. “Bob and Sally are coming for a couple of days, remember?”

No, I thought. “Of course,” I said. “I’ll break out a jigsaw puzzle. One of a winter scene.”

“Actually,” Pat said. Another worrisome expression. “Tomorrow, we are all driving to Los Angeles.” I checked the weather app. L.A. showed a photo of people actually standing on the sun.

“Why in the world..?”

“We are going to the Hollywood Bowl. To see the L.A. Philharmonic with Dudamel, remember?”

Nope, I thought again. “Oh sure, Dude and the Phil.” I pictured them being fanned by roadies with large palm fronds.

“It’s at night,” Pat said. “Should be much cooler.” The app showed people floating just above the sun at 8 pm.

We (meaning “not me”) decided to go to Pasadena first to the Norton Simon Museum, to see if we could figure out the Picassos this time. It was 110 degrees according to the car thermometer. “We can get lunch here,” Sally said.

The café was outside of the air-conditioned museum. “I’ll have the tuna,” I said to the lady blowing a dripping fetlock from her forehead. “Heated?” “Sure.” She placed it on the counter for ten seconds then handed it to me.

The Hollywood Bowl concert was amazing, and it was now only in the 90s. As usual, Gustavo was bouncing up and down and side-to-side as he conducted – with fervor – music from the opera Carmen. The folks in the first few rows collected his sweat in small containers to sell later on eBay. 

Thankfully our hotel room was air-conditioned and had a great view of a wall three feet away that had been painted – some years ago – in a beach scene motif. The palm trees were wilting.

“Home to lower triple digits tomorrow?” I asked Pat. “Exactly. Right after we go to the Getty Villa. Might as well enjoy as much of L.A. as we can!” I was pretty much enjoyed out by the time we looked at our one-thousandth Greek statue, but it was cooler on the drive home along the coast. 

The next day, Bob and Sally headed home and we had the place all to ourselves. “About that…” Pat said” I was about to ask for an explanation when… 

“We’re here!” The grandkids, Jack and Ollie, who had been in the car for an hour and a half, bounded in. 

“What’s this for?” Asked four-year-old Ollie. “What’s this for… what’s this for, what’s this for?” 

“Wanna go run on the lawn?” Eight-year-old Jack asked. “We can make stick weapons.”

“Where’s the box of toys? Does this need batteries? Can I water something with the hose?”

“I don’t know, yes, I don’t know, maybe.”

The pool was great. You could hear a sizzle as each person jumped in, like when a blacksmith drops a freshly shaped horseshoe into the cooling bucket. Later that night, we all watched a movie eating popcorn that had been naturally cooked on the patio stones outside.

Sunday, the family all headed out and the quiet was deafening. I grabbed a cold beer from the freezer. “I’m just going to sit here and veg,” I said. 

This time Pat just smiled. “We have that big picnic at the park for 100 people. You’re helping with the setup, remember?” The weather app on my iPhone now showed a melted earth. I miss the Wordle days.