Temperatures here in Cozyville: 106 in the shade at 1 pm. Yesterday afternoon around 5, Hubby took set little digital (non 'bulb')thermometer on a wood surface in full sun. When it hit 128.5 he grabbed it and stuck it in the carpenter pocket on his scrubs. That pocket is really for your cell phone, but clearly it does in a pinch when you need to hide a dire thermometer. (All temps are Farenheit.)
To celebrate the Fourth, DD, Senior DGD and I crunched through the park in search of snowcones. It was 106 in the shade at 1 pm. The mist tent was emitting warm vapor. People were standing in it anyway, just for the psychological boost I think, because it didn't do much otherwise. We chose the snowcone vendor who was situated so people in line waited in the shade. He was a very, very popular man.
(The other popular booth was the free-bottle-of-water-please-rehydrate-yourself-before-we-have-to-dial-911 station.)
We pondered over the flavor selection at the snowconery. We got a red one called Tiger's Blood, and a clear looking one called a White Russian, that tasted like coconut.
A couple snowcones would be nice today, but oddly, there don't seem to be any around. (What? Nobody wants to set up a vendors' concession somewhere in the sun to sell ice? Where is the entreprenurial spirit?)
The Harry Potter finale opens tonight in selected locations. Cozyville is not one. Cozyville, which is located 3 miles east of the Jumping Off Spot of the Universe, has no theaters. (Laughing about the Jumping Off Spot, are you? Best you stop. There used to be a sign there but it got pushed into the void. If you don't watch yourself, you'll fall the heck over the edge. You won't be laughing then.) This additionally means the odds of Alan Rickman showing up here to watch the movie with us are pretty low. Crap.
This is all for today. Hubby put the little digital thermometer back into the cabinet. We tied a kitchen mitt on a string to the door that faces the west. No freakin' wonder the handle is hot.