The Heat Can Fry Your Brain

I know this is true because Maury is wandering around in his golf shorts looking for his keys, sunglasses and clubs even though he returned from playing golf an hour ago.  Locals get excited about the first triple-digit day because they don’t have to wait for tee times, restaurants are devoid of snowbirds and their counterparts, ice fishers, and it gives them something to talk about besides sports.

Cashier at AJ’s Food Emporium: “Pretty hot out there, huh?

Me: “Yes, it’s warming up.”

Cashier: “Wish the employees had covered parking. My car will be an oven by the end of the day.”

Me: “Uh-huh. It’s hot. Did you just ring that item up twice?”

In fact, we’re so obsessed with obsessing over the weather the front page of our newspaper has a feature story with color pictures that it might be the day that our degrees are in three numbers. They also list with vital information like we had the most days of over 100 degrees in 1989. 143 to be exact. I was living here then but I don’t remember anything because part of my brain fried up like an old potato in used restaurant grease.

We also learned that our scorching temperatures actually average 109. So I have replaced Maury’s roof rat chart on the front of our refrigerator with a new one marking off how many 100+ degree days we have to go. So far: one. I can’t wait.

Dogs Who Pray

In case you have anthropomorphized your pet with religious fervor, be assured that there are others who do the same. Recently, we took  Amber, our loyal, slightly dumb and very gassy golden retriever to a temple service where dogs were invited. There  were assorted water dishes, treats and many owners saying, “Hush, Schwartzy, it’s only a King Charles Spaniel.”

Owners were as proud of their pets as parents whose toddlers had been accepted to Yale Med School. “Look at what Max can do. Sit, Max, sit! Max, stop it! Get your nose out of there. Now, Max, now!” If they weren’t using harsh whispers during the blessing, then they found their mushy baby voices and coaxed a recalcitrant pet to, “Sit, Poochie. Yes, you’re mama’s baby. You’re the dog. Yes. And please stop shedding on mama’s black capri pants from Barney’s.” Only in Scottsdale.

A Home Depot Service

Glee, is either starting a trend or following one, no matter how weird. She likes being cutting edge. So when a new guru gave a lecture on a do-it-yourself funeral service, she signed up. Why leave anything to chance. Let’s control everything! Even when we’re not here anymore!

My dearest trendy friend has put together explicit instructions for a “green” funeral. First she enrolled in the $20,000 linen shroud/biodegradable coffin/no embalming fluid package. But, later, she changed her mind after consulting with the death midwife also known as a funeral-rights educator. I cannot make this up. Glee has been specific about what she wants: a French mani/pedi with an extra top coat and no hair on her upper lip. Only in Scottsdale.

“I’ve decided on the $30,000 cremation special with a reef creation in the Pacific for my ashes. It includes a non-denominational prayer service, a memorial urn made from recycled tires and a wreath of fresh flowers to float in the spot until the tides take it away.”

I told you the heat was frying people’s brains.

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