*notice* heat

Hot.
The Pacific Northwest is under a heat wave and boy are we all boiling. I woke up early in hopes to find a pocket of the day free of humidity, expecting the slanting light and glinting dew of just-dawn to house a bit of relief. Fat chance.

Throughout the day the temperatures continued to rise. I worked in town today, and all we (or our few customers) talked about was this heat, past heat, or other observations of weather. Being a recent transplant here, comparing notes between East and West coast was the theme of the day. It was all good fun in the cool comfort of air conditioning, but on the way home one must brace for pacing chores and steps with the utmost care.

On the highway, heading home, windows glint under the harsh afternoon sun. The horizon is lined with low, hunkering, bilious clouds. Translucent clouds, ghostly clouds, baby blue and capped in pink clouds, which spell out to my eye the hottest of summer days. These clouds, this traffic, the wavering, thick atmosphere hovering over pavement, all of these spell ocean-bound to me, just the right equation. I grew up in a summer culture, on an East coast peninsula where we all headed to the water for 3 months (at least!) of the year. I feel land-locked in this place, far from the gentle mirror of ponds, the many faces a coast can have.

I get home just around 4. This is the thick of the hottest past of the day (as apposed to the East coast, which begins to cool for rush-hour... or if not its a good indication you're stuck with the sticky heat all night) and I'm grateful for the foresight in shuttering the house before I left for work. It is 87 degrees downstairs, meaning it must be well above 95 upstairs. I take out my Moleskine journals and arrange my Gocco for some printing after eating a light dinner.
* * *

An hour later I'm cleaning up. My hands are covered in black ink, hard to keep this slick stuff where you want it in this heat. I'm sweating now, one tall frosty glass of cold water after another has disappeared by my side; print, move, print, move, sip, print, move. I'm storing excess ink in baby food glass jars these days, and think about my young nephews who are visiting my home town right now. I inspect the prints and schedule the next layer printing in my mental calendar. I may be far from the ocean, but knee-deep in my dreams.