Hot hot hot

It’s extremely hot outside.  And humid.  Take an egg out of the fridge, and it’ll start sweating within a minute.  The dog is panting so rapidly she could be mistaken for a hummingbird.

I’ve been putting drops of rosewater into the big widemouth mason jar full of water & ice that has been my constant companion this afternoon.  The hint of rosewater tastes delicious, but if you don’t know it’s in there, it can be confusing.  The first time I experienced it, I thought that either the restaurants water tap was dirty or someone had washed out the glass with a geranium.

This week marks the annual Ann Arbor Art Fair, and as usual, it’s the hottest week of the year.  I walked through a small part of it yesterday afternoon and it just seemed miserable- exhausted vendors, gawkers, ‘art on a stick,’ a panoply of weird smells and lots of sunburned people complaining of the heat.  As a child, I remember slowly meandering through the tented streets with my parents, weaving in and out of the crowds.  As a teenager, my favorite part was waiting until after dark, when everything was shut down and the streets were closed, lined with white tents and open wide for me to ride my bike fast enough to cool down in the breeze.  As an adult, it’s a source of casual conversation about who’s lucky enough to leave town, and how busy we’ll be at the Deli.  I can’t say, however, that I’ve ever found it to be a source of inspiration or enjoyment- the crowds, the heat, the pressure that 500,000 visitors puts on this town….it’s so much that I’m always glad when it’s over.