Creeping doubt

As a southern Arizonan, today was sort of like Tax Freedom Day for the rest of the United States. But rather than politicians telling citizens after four and a half months of the year that now all of their wages are going to them rather than to pay for government services for others, today was Air Conditioning Freedom Day. The AC was switched off - although it appeared to have rusted into the on position - for the first time since maybe March or April. When the front door opened, the house actually shifted as air rushed to the back windows, open for the first time in ages. The hope is that AC will not be needed for the next few months and this area will once again be livable. Like any other seasonal annoyance, the heat is seen as merely transitory and not the reason people choose to live here. It is a hardener, a test before one can taste the fruits of passing, a process that makes the endgame more sweet. As temps fall across the country (enough snow to drown a buffalo in Buffalo, air so cold in Minnesota that Garrison Keillor momentarily stopped talking about about playing hide and seek at a family reunion, cold rain falling on cold Air Force cadets yearning for spring and the end of their suffering), each day gets prettier here. However, one should not grow overconfident. Yea, though the winter be mild and a magnet for the aged whose sinewy bodies ache to soak in the temperateness, the sun hides a more serious and deadly season following the next solstice. Inside that ball of gases multitudes of light years away sits in wait the evil that will make some here curse their existence and the existence of others. Each late fall and winter day is a Faustian bargain. Each spring, summer and early fall day is a F---ian trial. But on AC Freedom Day, those thoughts reside not at the front of the cortex, but at the back. For one day, enjoy; for one day, forget.

In other business, I shopped, well more accurately walked around, a mall in Scottsdale called Kierland Commons. In Welsh, Kierland means "word made up by the marketing department to entice people with money to buy overpriced shoes." I was frightened by what I found at this place. Everywhere were tall blonde women unafraid to have a little "work" done swinging large shopping bags and talking about how their husbands are addicted to golf. I'm not allowed to live in Scottsdale because I'm not good looking enough. I'm allowed to enter occasionally because I have a government-issued temporary gawker visa, but there is a movement afoot among the residents to cease using these and require anyone ugly to return to their city of origin. The Scottsdale mayor has talked about the need to seal the border although other mayors in the greater Phoenix area are pushing for a comprehensive solution.

I have my panama hat, sandals and knee-high black socks pressed and folded so that can mean only one thing: you guessed it, The Yumanity is going on vacation. But this isn't one of those vacations where I get away from it all and neglect the reader like those other Web sites. In fact, the posting will be vastly accelerated (Victor Conte hooked me up with some primo stuff) during my trip. The destination is North Carolina. I plan to deliver details of the excursions and also anything interesting that happens. Watch this space for exciting hijinks abroad.

Reading- A Perfect Hell: The True Story of the Black Devils, the Forefathers of the Special Forces by John Nadler. I don't usually go in for war histories but this one seemed interesting. I'm not too far along, but I'll let you know how it goes.
Watching - Belle de Jour, a 1967 film by Luis Bunuel. Apparently, this was an erotic masterpiece, but I think it may be a bit off on both counts. But 1967 was a different time. Paris had a Hilton, but there was no Paris Hilton, so for a full-blooded male in 1967 Catherine Deneuve might have been the very epitome of an erotic masterpiece.
Listening - Scissor Sisters, Ta-Dah. I don't feel like dancing! If you know the song, this may be in your head for the next 27 hours.
Applying - Grass and weed killer. It's judgment day for flora around these parts.
Saying - Goodbye to you, gentle reader. Out.