Buffalo Gal

I went to retrieve the paper this morning and stepped into the blast furnance that is South Georgia in July. I grew up in Buffalo. My chromosones can't cope.
This afternoon I limped through my errands with the air conditioning in my car a hazy oasis between tasks. TS Eliot clearly never set foot here. July and August are pretty well tied for the cruelest months.
This kind of heat fries your neurons and dulls your senses. Mirages drift on the horizon of summer nights without air conditioning in my youth. The crisp, fresh taste of fresh, fruits and vegetables purchased for pennies at roadside stands challenges the overpriced, antiseptic, flavorless fare at Harris Teeter.
Despite a house now seven months on the market and no book checks for several months... there was no choice.
I reserved a cottage on Lake Erie, just across the creek from the perfect summers of my childhood. Plans were made over dinner today for Charlie and Jen to get the time away from work.
I made the reservation over the phone, soothed by the flat Midwestern tones of the Western New York accent on the other end of the line.
Fiscally, it makes no sense. Emotionally, there is no other option.
Some like it hot.
I don't.

Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs

Buffalo Gal Judi Griggs I'm a communications professional, writer, cynic, mother, wife and royal pain. The order depends on the day. I returned to my hometown in November 2004 after a couple of decades of heat and hurricanes. I can polish pristine copy, but not here. This is my morning exercise -- 20-minute takes without a net or spellcheck. It's easier than sit ups for me. No guarantee what it will be for you. Clicking on the subscribe link will send you an email notice when each new entry is posted.
:: HOME :: The New Buffalo Gal :: Buffalo Rising :: The Buffalo Bloviator :: Buffalo NPR Station :: SABAH :: More Buffalo Weather Reality :: West Village :: Mary's Blog :: The Truth About Snow in Buffalo :: EMAIL ::
Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (0) Share on Facebook		2004-07-10 7:51 PM Blast furnance I went to retrieve the paper this morning and stepped into the blast furnance that is South Georgia in July. I grew up in Buffalo. My chromosones can't cope. This afternoon I limped through my errands with the air conditioning in my car a hazy oasis between tasks. TS Eliot clearly never set foot here. July and August are pretty well tied for the cruelest months. This kind of heat fries your neurons and dulls your senses. Mirages drift on the horizon of summer nights without air conditioning in my youth. The crisp, fresh taste of fresh, fruits and vegetables purchased for pennies at roadside stands challenges the overpriced, antiseptic, flavorless fare at Harris Teeter. Despite a house now seven months on the market and no book checks for several months... there was no choice. I reserved a cottage on Lake Erie, just across the creek from the perfect summers of my childhood. Plans were made over dinner today for Charlie and Jen to get the time away from work. I made the reservation over the phone, soothed by the flat Midwestern tones of the Western New York accent on the other end of the line. Fiscally, it makes no sense. Emotionally, there is no other option. Some like it hot. I don't. Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs Read/Post Comments (0) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top