Talking about the weather

Some boys I talked with last week pose for a photo.

The news says we're having the hottest summer in the last ten years. That's saying a lot, because it was pretty hot those years too. [Update: We've had the longest heat wave since records have been kept, with over 25 consecutive days with temperatures over 100°F. In 1934, it was the actual hottest year on record for us, but even then they didn't have 25 days of consecutive heat.] Daily temperatures are over 100° with heat indexes around 116°F. My electric bill will be scary this time around, but at least I am able to run my air-conditioner. So many others can't run it all day (if they even have one at all). Today I saw a couple of people wearing wet towels on their heads. We've got two more weeks of this forecast before the weather "dips" into the 90s. Most summers, we have torrential rains to cool things off, but there doesn't seem to be much of that this year.

In related news, Chinese people don't talk about the weather much. Once I asked a Chinese man why and he said they couldn't change the weather, so why talk about it? They talk about food quite a lot though.

Oh happy day!

Eighty years ago this evening in a small town a few hours west of Houston, a cute little baby boy was born. (I wasn't there of course, but I've seen pictures.) He, the youngest, made his family of five complete. 

Eighty years flies by too fast if you ask me. I'm sure to him it seems like just yesterday that he was walking through a creek full of alligators on his way home from school. 

Why didn't you say so sooner?

Sunday morning my time, I called to chat with my parents. While on the phone, Mimi decided she wanted to play.

She started biting my jeans, and made ferocious sounds. There was a little nom-nom-nom, and a little grr-ruff-ruff, followed by all-out barking. She was loud. My parents thought I must have been standing inside a lion's cage at the zoo.

So my dad, who has a close first-hand relationship with my little mutt, asked me to put Mimi on the phone. I moved the earpiece down to her level while counting to three so my dad would know when to start talking. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but Mimi seemed very attentive to whatever it was he was telling her.

I pulled the phone back up to my ear and asked him what he said. He said, "I told her to cut that malarkey out and to STOP BARKING!" 

And she did.

I haven't stopped laughing since.

Small world

For the last couple of weeks I was kind of in the middle of nowhere in China. One day I met an American woman from Las Cruces, New Mexico. I told her I had a niece or two who lived in that city. She asked their names. When I mentioned KR, the lady's eyes got big. Not only does she know KR, but her husband performed for the wedding ceremony for KR and her husband when they got married last year. And KR's husband works for this lady's husband! Ha-ha, just another small world story to add to my long list.

My favorite small world story is from B&J Mussey, when they were in a Beijing elevator with two total strangers, and it turned out that one of those two strangers had grown up in Pecos (where we are all from). They didn't know each other, but they knew each other's friends and families. I know. In BEIJING, in an ELEVATOR!

Anyway, I am back in my own abode once again. After two weeks of eating the same thing every day, you won't be surprised to hear I've had Italian food, Mexican food, Subway sandwich and a latte since I got back 48 hours ago. My taste buds have thanked me over and over again. (You're welcome, little buds.)

Summer school

Chinese kids in their classroom ... too cute!

Told ya

As I mentioned before, I'm in the middle of nowhere this week. Sitting on the roof staring at other bored people becomes a weak form of entertainment. There is nothing else to do. There is no coffee, no good restaurant, no public transportation, no TV, no anything. Why am I here? This is a question I have asked myself the last few days. Supposedly there is a good answer to that question, but I'm not feeling it at the moment.

It's old, dull, tropical and monsoony here. And I'm stranded, which is frankly the worst part of it. I'd love to find a taxi or ride an e-bike and go in search of real civilization.

 I can't remember the last time I was this bored, but I think it was sometime in the 70s.

Strolling through town

Hey baby, I like your hot wheels!

Baby seen on the streets of a town in the middle of nowhere. The mom ducked out of the picture.

Location services needed

I turned on my iPad location services so Google Earth could tell me where on earth I was. The good news is that I am on earth. I wasn't sure there for a day or two. I am in some remote place, one of the most backward places I have been in the past ten years or so. It's a place where you can pet a cat while shopping for umbrellas at the market, where you can get breakfast for 16 cents, and where it is possible for a sidewalk pool table to become an actual, well, pool. We've been walking through lots of puddles, because the only public transportation that runs through town is Bus No. 11 (the two strokes of the number 11 representing our own two legs, that is). From the looks we're getting, white people don't walk these streets often.

The housekeeper at the hotel insisted that sweeping up the dead cockroach in my room was not part of her duties, as a dead cockroach laying in my room for another week wouldn't hurt anything. I insisted it become part of her job, and she went over and picked up the dead bug with her bare fingers. I had in mind she sweep it up into the dustpan, but, you know, whatever.

Sometimes I wonder if Twilight Zone is secretly filming my life for a new episode.

And by "sometimes," I mean right now.

I'm mentoring some college students this week. The variety of experiences I get to encounter in my life is a good thing, but I'm missing my little white fuzz ball that is usually underfoot.

This is just wrong

In the above poor-quality photo of my hotel room, can you spot what is wrong?

Bitter realization

Pinterest is full of DIY home improvement ideas. I ran across one such idea for restoring luster to wood furniture. It said to combine 5 parts canola oil with 1 part vinegar and apply to wood with a cloth. I figured it couldn't hurt, so I applied it to the piece of furniture above.

    

Uh oh, here she comes. Next thing I knew, Mimi was licking the oil and vinegar off the furniture like it was an ice cream cone. She was clearly crazed for this taste. I made a fresh batch of oil and vinegar, poured a little over the food in her plate she had previously ignored, and sure enough, she ate everything on her plate. (Yeah, what dog is finicky like a cat when it comes to eating? Apparently this is a Pekingese trait.)

This DIY project didn't damage my furniture, but I don't think I'll use this recipe next time. It didn't do much for the furniture. 

Cafe at the park

I keep reminding myself of the bitter cold winters here as impetus to get out while the sun is shining. Not many other people are out at noon when the heat and humidity index is at 116°F, but I am. With all the sunscreen, I'm not sure I'm soaking up the vitamin D the doctor says I need, but it feels good anyway.

Yesterday I rode my e-bike at noon to the far side of town where I checked out a new Italian cafe near the lake. The restaurant is beautiful inside and out. The food was average tasting and over-priced. (I could make the same thing for about 10 percent of what I paid for it. I mean ... spaghetti? Maybe I should have tried the pizza instead since I am less likely to make it at home.)

I love summer ... not because of beaches or vacations or swimming pools, but because I can fearlessly leave the house and have freedom of movement (you know, because for a few short months, I actually don't have to wear long johns)!

Today is fix-it day

These days, not much in China is cheap like it used to be. But veggies and tailoring are still cheap. I got four pairs of jeans hemmed today for less than $1 each. I also got three shirts altered; they cost quite a bit more. This tailor shop is next to the men's dress pants section of a department store.

And when I say pants, I mean pants as a word from American English, not from British or Australian English (then it means something else; they are fond of the word "trousers").

After I got my clothes altered, I took some of my watches to get new watch batteries. The batteries were $2.50 each. They don't tend to last very long, so I'll be back here before next year to get more.

As you can see, his little fix-it shop in a back alley isn't very big and has all kinds of time pieces. I can't imagine how this job makes enough money to feed a family, but I always admire someone who finds his niche and makes the best of it.

This post has no real purpose, I just thought you'd want to see some of the things I see.

Before Brit

Looooooooong before a teenaged Britney Spears started the fad of baring midriffs, Chinese men had trademarked this style as their own. She was late to the party.

Her abs were a bit more ripped than this guy's though, gotta give her that.

At rush hour this evening, almost every major intersection had watermelon trucks like this one, selling the popular melon. There were lots of customers, but I was not one of them -- watermelons are a bit too sticky and messy for my liking. Something about this scene reminds me of growing up in west Texas though. The sign in Chinese and high-rise buildings definitely are not reminders, but the heat index was 116°F today, and the easy-going atmosphere took me back to the scorching hot memory-filled summers of my youth.

Keeping a brave face

I found out today that the husband of a good Chinese friend of mine in Bamboo Forest has pancreatic cancer. What a blow.

Back in May he had low energy, was losing weight and was jaundiced. They went to the doctor, not all that common of a practice here. After a week of running tests, they found out he had this cancer. In China, cancer patients are not told they have cancer, just their family members are told. It is believed a cancer patient will lose his spirit and will to live if he knows the bad news. I always feel so strange when I know someone has cancer and that person doesn't even know himself. I wouldn't tell you this secretive personal news on this blog if there was anyway you would possibly know who he is. Not one reader of this blog has ever met this person though, so that's the only reason I feel I can talk about it.

He was told he has a bad cold/flu.

The 49-year-old is undergoing chemotherapy ten days a month, losing hair and has some nausea for his "bad cold." When I saw my friend today, she tried to tell me his situation is not too bad, but I knew she was just putting on a brave face, because she looked like she was about to break down in tears. I don't really know how much she knows about pancreatic cancer. Her daughter has looked it up on the Internet, but they can't discuss it at home. My friend looked really tired and worn out.

I'll make up some English pseudonyms for them so you can pray for them if you want to: Luella and Hank. They are super nice people and I have been to their home several times for meals. On the government official classification system, they are peasant farmers (but they live in the city and have low-paying jobs that do not involve farming). They are not the poorest of the poor, but neither are they as well-off financially as the middle-class. May God bless them.

French Concession of Shanghai

I was in Shanghai a week ago (I already showed you photos from a boat ride on the river that flows through the city). I also visited the French Concession part of town, close to the main downtown area of the city. I love the tree-lined streets, trendy boutiques, coffee shops, bookstores and even Mexican food (I ate some when I was there). Shanghai is a beautiful city, and is one of my favorite cities in the world.

Salon day

I was dull and lifeless. Or maybe it was just my hair that was. Agua fixed all that when he cut my hair last week. It's still a bit long in back, with layers.

I can't remember ever seeing a woman cut hair in China before. It seems to always be trendy young men in this line of work. This hairdresser's name sounds like the Spanish word for water, but it is really the Chinese name "A Guo." He has a nice salon ... check out those mirrors and chandeliers in back! Agua's adorable little two-year old son stuck his hand in my cup of cold coffee while I was getting my haircut. That's always special. 

The homeland celebrates

Happy 4th of July to my American friends and family.

58 years ago, something wonderful happened

Happy 58th Anniversary to my parents! They were married on July 1, 1955 at the First Baptist Church in Rosenberg, Texas. I am blessed beyond measure to have them as my parents and to share the journey of life with them. It's fun to be in my family. 

Photo in their backyard by me. But not taken this year. Obvs.