Baked and Broken

Crack!! It was a familiar sound. Like a perfect bone snapping in two. A bead of sweat dripped down from my face onto the broken area as I struggled to rip apart the remaining shreds of the limb from the main branch. These branches were the last of the remaining pile we accumulated a couple months ago. It had been hot, so they were long dead and dry, thankfully. Not too terribly hard work, but cause for a few thick limbs to stab me and draw blood in various places on my legs. Nothing a little Neosporin can't fix.

Eight thirty in the morning and I'm dripping. My shorts are soaked through, my t-shirt sticking to my body as if it were made of visqueen. The heat over the past two weeks has been near a hundred most every day. The forecast for today is 106 with a heat index nearing 115. That's ridiculous, and nobody should be out in it for more than an hour or so. I piled each limb into the back of the truck, and surprisingly, I'm not the least bit angry or disgruntled about it. You'll likely remember one of my past posts about the beginnings of said brush pile. It hasn't been pleasant.

Yesterday afternoon my wife pulled out a veiled request that is surely all too familiar to those of you out there that are married.

"Are you going to the dump tomorrow to take the last of those branches behind the shop?"

With a surprised look, "Uh, I wasn't planning on it, no. It's about a hundred and forty degrees out there if you haven't noticed."

"I just worry about the pile of dead leaves and wood back there being such a fire hazard."

Nothing was said after that, but I knew it was over and it made sense. Damn sense. Who needs it? Rick's auto parts is a salvage yard over on Old Highway 45. I had called Rick Friday because I'm looking for spindles and caliper holders from a mid seventies chevy truck or Blazer to fit onto a Dana 44 front axle that I'll eventually stuff under the front of my Jeep. I'm in no hurry for this, because I need to do other things first, but I thought I might as well kill two birds with one stone since the dump is a scant quarter mile away from the junkyard. Rick said he had a few early model Chevy trucks with complete front ends that I could come out and look at to see if they had what I need. I agreed and showed up this morning after unloading twelve dollars to my county tax coffer along with a truck bed full of broken limbs. Lucky me, there's a '73 Blazer that still has what I'm looking for bolted steadfastly to the knuckles. That's the bugger, though. Bolted up and exposed to the elements for who knows how many years adds up to plenty of surface rust and most likely a less than easy removal. After a little haggling and confirmation of the year model, I told him it was already way too hot for me to be crawling around in a junkyard unbolting heavy parts from an old axle. I'll come back and get them first thing on a Monday morning that doesn't melt me with a heat index in triple digits. I don't think people are exactly lining up for these pieces from a thirty five year old Blazer, so I think it's safe to wait until the oven is off.


Yesterday afternoon I went over to Gram's house to check on the pool and lounge for a bit. It was very pleasant around noon with a slight breeze blowing through the back yard. The wife declined to join me because of the heat. She grew up in Puerto Rico, but unfortunately, there isn't an ocean breeze in Gram's back yard. I was only able to tolerate an hour and a half of sweeping, scooping, and swimming before it started to feel like a furnace out there. When the water is almost the temperature of bath water, it's not much of a relief anyway.

I'm not sure what I'll do with the rest of my day, but I'm pretty sure there won't be much done in the area outside of my pleasantly cool, air conditioned home.