At my house today, NOAA forecasts this:
Just “hot”. That’s all they have to say. High of 97 — even I don’t call it “warm”. (90 is warm. Up to 95 is quite warm. 97 is firmly in the “hot”.) That isn’t water you see in the picture, it is a mirage. We’ve been seeing them on the highway since the middle of May.
Come Saturday I fly out to Vancouver, WA for the neices’ confirmations, so I go check what NOAA predicts before I start packing. I learn seven different ways to say “It’s going to rain”. And, by the way, the high will be, mmn, not very high. I think I can leave the shorts home.
–> Funny, I had planned to wear the exact same outfit to this confirmation that I wore to the one at my parish in February. But I think I need to find something a tad warmer.
***
Meanwhile, am cleaning the house in an effort to fool the babysitter about our housekeeping standards. I doubt it will work, but a girl can hope. Don’t know how much internet-writing I’ll be doing during the momcation, so if you don’t hear from me, yes, I did drop off the edge of the earth. Or I guess technically, I’ll be paddling around just shy of the edge.
“Up to 95 is quite warm.”
That’s right; save hot for when you really need it.
“Hot” doesn’t exactly get neglected as a result. I think May to September is a pretty good run for any weather word.