Good Morning Gentle Readers,
TWC had to go down the hill yesterday for a brief business meeting in HELL. It was 106 in the left turn lane on Temescal Canyon Road. A mile back, in El Cerrito, it was 108 where the Green Cross store used to be. No, pot stores don't go broke, the county ran them off.
I dragged my sorry backside out of bed this morning at 5:30 AM and the mercury was indicating almost 80 degrees. Just now (8:00 AM) it's pushing 88 deck-level degrees here at Casa de las Rocas Grandes.
For most of the country, Labor Day signifies the onset of autumn. Or at least the promise of autumn-soon-to-be. Here in the southern part of the Golden Fleece State, Labor Day is somewhat more predictable than Groundhog Day in that we can count on at least four more weeks of summer. Maybe six. The kicker is that September is quite often the hottest month of the year.
To paraphrase Mark Twain, the coldest winter I ever spent was five weeks of dreary, dank, foggy, sopping June Gloom in So Cal. Summer doesn't get rolling around here until 4th of July. I guess that's the trade off. June for September.
Freeway Motel Photo Credit: The Roadside Gallery