Last week I was wandering my specialty supermarket’s aisles at around 10 AM when I just about ran into a gentleman my own age with a neatly trimmed beard and a twinkle in his eye. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts and sandals. This might seem odd for some of you who live in the midwest or the northeast where October temperatures are dipping down into the 40s and maybe even lower, but here in Northern California our monthlong heat wave continues. I apologized for my inattention. He smiled and said something like “no worries.” Then because we were both just standing there, he said, “In the last months, this place has become my cineplex, my dance studio and my air conditioned social club. In short, I’m nearly bored out of my mind, and coming to the supermarket is most of my entertainment!” I smiled sheepishly and agreed that without the supermarket I might also have gone off the deep end long before this.
The guy’s cheerfulness stuck with me the whole day. I replayed our brief conversation and felt, with relief, that I was not the only one going crazy without almost everything that makes my life feel normal.
I now have most of my conversations in the supermarket. Someone will say, “Is that you, Sara, behind the mask?” and I’ll respond, “Yes, Charlaine, I recognize you too” and we’ll discuss our current book club’s selection, or how damn hot it is and why did Charlaine move to California a year ago when she could have stayed in her nice air-conditioned apartment in Chicago. Here in Berkeley, we’re not supposed to need air-conditioning because, before climate change, we didn’t. In the last month we have had more days over 85 degrees than not. Nights don’t cool off; damp sheets are whipped to the bottom of the bed; fans go 24/7.
Today I have had double the entertainment I usually have. I had lunch at an outdoor restaurant with my husband and a buddy of his, AND I went to the supermarket. As we were ordering lunch, a couple at the next table ordered three appetizers, two salads, two entrees and dessert. The waitress said, “Wow, you guys must be really hungry!” The male half of the couple said, “No, it’s just too damned hot to cook tonight so we’ll have dinner at lunch, and eat leftovers later.” This seemed like a supremely good idea to me and I ordered accordingly.
I find I’m dreaming about plastic baby pools and firehoses; eating under those umbrellas they have in the south that spray a fine cold mist down on you so you don’t fry in the sun.
This isn’t just about the heat, of course. It’s also about wildfires and not having nearly enough to do as the pandemic may be hitting its second wave. In March I made cakes every week. In April and May I hiked almost every day. June, July and August found me looking for Zoom classes, both to host and to participate in. Blessedly, my grandson came to visit in September and we had one day’s respite at the Russian River in an AirStream park. I lowered myself into the cool water of the river on a Sunday and just appreciated the difference in my body temperature for several hours. I would have repeated the same behavior the next day, but a nearby wildfire sent us scurrying back to our home due to the thick smoke in the air. Almost every guest did the same. While I felt bad for the resort, they were gracious and accommodating. You can’t fight Mother Nature.
Berkeley has been doing a major sewage project this last month and most of it seemed to be going on right in front of our house. Dump trucks, backhoes, air drills, men in hard hats and day glow vests inspected existing pipes and conferred about which ones needed replacing. At least that gave my husband something to be interested in. To me it was mostly noise and road blocks — so I couldn’t go to the supermarket.
I see my three closest friends and one of my daughters regularly. Our family has dress-up Friday night dinners. Still, we are all getting cranky. Too hot, too scarey and too prolonged. We need a renewal of some kind. Any ideas?
