Saturday, July 23, 2011

It's Hot

My morning glories are wilting every afternoon like clockwork, no matter how much water they have.

I haven't visited either of the community gardens in days um, a week well, before hell came to visit Charlotte... wait, I when was the last time I watered Cook CG?  There has been some rain, but... shit.  I bet all my carefully cultivated stuff is dying. 

A craptastic side effect of being too much of a coward to leave the safety of air conditioning.  Even to save my tomatoes and pumpkins and beans and luffas.

I just can't go out there.

I haven't left the apartment in two days.

At least Assurance CG has automated sprinklers.  Now that's community for you!  Why doesn't Cook have them?!  Curse, mumble, groan, unfair rambling... (It's the heat.  I promise I don't mean it.)

My parrot window thermometer says it's 99 degrees right now.  I think I'm being lied to, or the thermometer is in denial. Wunderground's "Most Cloudy" thumbnail mocks me with his false predictions of protection from the soul-sucking sun and his orgasmic pleasure at frying my kids like tiny pink shrimp on urban parking lots and sidewalks.  "Sorry kiddo, we can't practice rollerblading today.  Mr. Sun is in his happy place."

On top of a heat advisory, we have an "air quality" advisory.  The air is poisonous?!?!  Oh wait, that's nothing new either.  If that annoyingly cheerful yellow exclamation hadn't popped up on my weather advisory every day since the summer started, I might have started paying attention to it.


Break out the gas masks and arm yourselves with inhalers and ice cubes... we're going to visit a museum!

Friday, July 15, 2011

The Oasis (From the front and side, as of July 1st)

 Sometimes I see people stop and look gap-jawed upwards toward me.  The first time, I thought I'd accidentally wandered out into the sidewalk-line-of-sight part of the patio in my skanky summer night gown sans bra.  (I often hang out on my patio in skivvies, but usually am careful to stay out of random jogger's field of vision.)  But it didn't take me long to realize it wasn't me.  Or, perhaps, wasn't just my rolled-out-of-bed scariness.  Patio gardens like mine are actually pretty rare in this stark apartment community of mine.  Three floors up, The Oasis stands out as a lovely bit of greenery in a sea of white washed empty patios.  You'll occasionally see bikes hanging from racks, or an odd pot or two, but usually nary a vegetable or bird feeder is to be seen.

One day on my way back from somewhere, I decided to stop and gawk, putting myself in the shoes of tidy dog-walkers whose patios were are as barren as the Sahara.  (OK, so I was plotting exactly exactly where I could hang out less-than-kempt without being seen.)  I took some photos for good measure.  This was a couple weeks ago, and things have since grown and been moved, but you get the idea.

I wish more people would hop on the bandwagon.  That way I wouldn't risk getting gawked at in my garden-witch-just-rose skivvies, watering and drinking tea, when a random jogger happens by.

Or maybe they're just afraid of geting in trouble for putting holes in the wood.  Ooops.  I didn't think about that.  (No, really, I did.  I just don't care.  :D)