Hotter than Tar.

Dear Diary, 

    
     The summertime is so wonderful, isn't it? The birds are chirping, the grass is lusciously green, and the extra vitamin D from the sun leaves you feeling fabulous. However, I do believe there is a threshold (for many) in the heat department. We all like to try and one-up the other by saying our heat beats yours because it's 126* in our car when leaving Target, while others say their heat beats ours because it's 126* in their car with humidity thrown into the mix. We go back and forth until everyone realizes that we all suck at living in extremely hot temperatures and suddenly the homes in San Francisco begin to appraise for twice the amount they were in the winter. Go figure. 

     I do believe I have found the ultimate winning punch line for the hotter-than-thou argument that bounces around the mouths of individuals everywhere from May to September. (Or in the case of Arizonans, from March to December.)

     Yesterday, my little family was leaving our church service at 11:00 AM. So...not even lunch time yet, right? You'd still consider that "morning". As we were driving off, I heard a rattling sound at my back right tire. You know that noise you hear after you've driven your car through the mud all weekend, then it dries, and for the next few days you hear dried mud chunks getting kicked off of your tire and up onto the frame of your car? Yeah, that noise. Only, we haven't been off-roading in muddy terrain. We pulled over. Hubby got out to check the wheel. After some quick evaluating, to our amazement, we realized our car had been sunk into the tar of the parking lot and strips of tar had been glued to our tire by the sun. We had to peel the gummy tar off in chunks before we could continue on. 

     So...your place is hot. But your car doesn't sink into parking lots like quick sand because the ground beneath you can no longer withstand the satanic temperatures. One point for me, no points for you. 

Sincerely, 

Me. The hot momma. No seriously, it is way. Too. Hot.