Tag: temperature

Munda’s Wandering Thoughts

It feels wintry cold in the coffee shop. They don’t heat the place much. I’m wearing a fleece piece. I usually wear something like that or a sweatshirt here. While they don’t heat the place in the winter, they ice it in the summer. I’m told all of this is for the workers behind the counter. I accept that. Today it feels like gloves are appropriate.

Winter’s influence is edging up. Snow covers the northern ridges down to about thirty-five hundred feet. Reports of snow falling in other places percolate around the net. It’s 42 here and light rain is falling.

I feel like I’m ready to stop writing. Go home, get warm, read a book and eat lunch. I typed and edited for several hours. Made substantial progress.

At least, that’s what I’m pitching to myself. Writer, beware.

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Fogda’s Wandering Thoughts

Was in the library. Coldish day with air temp circulating at 42 F as rain and clouds said no to the sun.

A woman and child walked past. The adult seemed in her late thirties. Child, a girl, looked ten. I assume Mom and daughter but I don’t know. What struck was their dress. The adult wore boots, gloves, a knitted hat, and a puffy jacket. Kid wore crocs. Loose pants which looked like fleece jammies. A thin long-sleeved top.

Out they went into the weather together. I said something to my wife about the difference in their dress. She replied, “Yes, those young people just don’t seem to feel it, do they?”

No, they don’t.

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Saturday’s Wandering Thought

Maybe it’s just me — ahem — but the sweat incurred in temperatures over 100 degrees F seems to stink more than the sweat of just 80 degrees F. I think it’s probably because there’s a lot more sweat involved when the sun and air takes us into triple digits, and that perspiration takes longer to dry.

Then again, maybe it’s just me.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: amcoffeedident

Ah, Friday has arrived, for what it’s worth. It’s July 26, 2024. A tumultuous month is closing down. Our air quality is ‘moderate’ right now. From my standpoint, the sky’s blue is sketchy with gray but no smells are assaulting my nose and I’m not tearing up or sneezing, knock on wood, etc. 66 F now, it’ll be 89 F as our high.

Last night was cool, though, and fresh air came in. Windows and doors were opened. The temperature inside the house dropped to 70 F. Sweet. Everything was closed back up so we have a cool house throughout the day. With intense, direct sunshine, inside the house will reach 81 F. That’s liveable. Besides that, we’ll have a fan going on us in the office when we’re in there reading, chatting, and surfing the net.

It’s a much quieter morning today. We’re monitoring several fires. Two big ones are in California. Several large ones in Oregon, as well, but most of the large Oregon fires are on the eastern side of the Cascades. One fire by Chico in California was apparently started by a man. He’s been arrested for suspected arson. My wife, a pacifist, advocates hanging him as over 174,000 acres have burned, forcing over 3500 people to evacuate.

Some bad news from friends. One has his physician telling him that he’s two steps away from hospice. It was a warning to get his attention. Hope it does. A second has a dying floof-friend, one of those situations that bring out sighs of despair, sympathy, and empathy. Little can be done but to offer comfort. Third friend was taken away by EMTs. He was conscious when he left but we haven’t been able to get updates after several days, which just keeps the worries simmering.

Reflecting on shifts, changes, and news updates this week has encouraged The Neurons to bring “Bitter Sweet Sympathy” by the Verve into the morning mental music stream (Trademark scorched). I mean, as the 1997 song says, “‘Cause it’s a bitter sweet symphony that is life.”

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Monday Meringue

  1. Busy dream night. Left me feeling energized. I was flying in one dream. An incredible, vivid dream, I woke up confused at finding myself in a bed, in a room, and on the ground. Other than flying, feeling and hearing the wind while looking down on the world, there wasn’t much else to it. But I did think while looking down at mountains, forests, and seas, the world is a fine place. Such a different impression I experience while reading the news each day.
  2. I have noted a trend. Lots of dreams translates to high writing energy. It doesn’t work out as well as it might sound. I can’t keep up with my brain’s layered intensity to the story being followed. The ability to do that might separate critically and commercially successful writers from the rest of us pluggers. I’m working on it. Just like other acquired forms (athletics, music, art, math, reading, etc.), discipline and repetition can improve the process and outcome.
  3. Other than a foray to 104 degrees F Friday, we’ve been spared the triple-digit forecast. Sat. was supposed to be 105, Sunday, 108, but we hit ‘just’ 99 and 98. Today will only be 98. Lots of cloud cover so no need for the AC. The clouds block that sun, good for keeping cool, not so much for the solar panels. I’m happy with the trade.
  4. I can always tell when we’re not producing much solar energy. The inverter is in the garage. When the panels are cranking, it sounds like a large hive of angry murder bees. As of now, it’s putting out 900 watts and is quiet as a sleeping cat.
  5. Did a little typing with my left hand today. Progress. Return to doc a week from today. Fingers crossed…on my right hand.
  6. Yeah, got the coffee. Actually already drank it. Already wrote for two hours this morning. It was write, read, post, play a game, write, repeat. So time to continue writing like crazy one…more…time.
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Feels Like…

I was checking the temperature for our area via Wunderground. It said, “104.3 F.” Underneath, it said, “Feels like 78 F”.

We wondered where they were, that they were so optimistically cool.

 

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T2POIM

Writing is about learning what you like to read and then learning what you like to write and then writing what you like to read. That’s my opinion. Naturally.

So today’s Things That Probably Only Interest Me (T2POIM) is about our local temperature. Arriving home yesterday just past five in the pre-evening (or post-afternoon), I checked the temps. Thirty-seven F. Sweet.

We’ve had days of colder weather that we’re used to. I’m not bragging that ours was cold because I know my sisters were out shopping in twelve degree weather. We never went that low.

That’s the thing, however. We usually don’t go low on temps. A few times per winter finds temps in the low twenties and high teens, which is what we’ve been experiencing. As our homes aren’t built to endure that, we need to attend matters like the furnace, pipes and cats to ensure nothing freezes on us.

Thirty-seven yesterday pre-evening marked the first time that we were over freezing that late in the day. I skated through some relief with a mental cry that the worse was over. But I kept watching the temp. Six: thirty-seven. Seven: thirty-seven. Eight: thirty-seven.

Midnight: thirty-seven.

By now, I believed my weather station was kaput. But local online stations showed the same temperature. So…I went to bed.

Three: thirty-seven.

Six: thirty-seven.

Seven: thirty-seven.

Eight: thirty-seven.

I went to Southern Oregon University’s online weather station. It’s physically situated several hundred feet lower in elevation and in a field where either sun or fog often envelops it. Its temp was but one degree below our temp. Pulling up their graphs, I saw the same results I’d noticed at home: the temperature hadn’t changed since five PM yesterday.

By ten, our temperature had finally climbed to thirty-eight. But it struck me as astonishing, that through a winter night and past sunrise, the temperature remained the same. Of course, seeing the thick cloud cover and then the rain, I knew a warm front had moved in.

It’s interesting. I’m sure, though, seeing an unchanging temperature over fifteen hours remains a T2POIM.

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Three Degrees

Three degrees can be a lot, and not much. It can be a shrug or a killer, self-actualization achieved, or another day of determined trying, the perfect puffed pastry crust and advancement to the next round with a handshake from Paul, or dead last, saying good-bye.

Three degrees further north, and you’ve entered another world. That can be huge. North Korea and South Korea. Not the countries’ real names, but their nicknames. You probably recognized them. Three degrees off the tip of southern Florida, and you better be airborne, on a boat or a platform, or you’re in a watery situation.

At 42 degrees north, you can be on the California – Oregon border. Three degrees south and your taxes are much greater, along with the costs of real estate, the average income, and the likelihood that you’re a college graduate and are more liberal. At 120 west, you’re on the California – Nevada border, if you’re north of 39 degrees latitude but still south of 42 degrees, and the differences those two states embody. South of those coordinates, and you’re still in California at 120 degrees west, all the way down to Santa Barbara, where you enter the ocean.

Three degrees of effort, luck and success is sometimes the difference between being average, good, and great – between winning a gold medal and being back in the pack – or average, fair and poor. Same could be in the degree of decorating taste. One person’s stripped zebra rug and red walls is another person’s horror. It’s a matter of degrees.

Three degrees was the difference in the high between Tuesday and Wednesday at my house. Tuesday reached 96. Wednesday, cooler, at 93. What a difference it felt. 93, with a light breeze, offered comfort in the shade. 96’s shade was a brick oven’s shade. Today is forecast to mock them both, at 103 F. We’ll see if that three degrees over 100 is realized, or felt.

Three Degrees is a good but not fabulous Oregon Pinot Noir. Supposed to have won some awards but would not win them from me. Different tastes, and all that.

 

Three Degrees is also a Portland restaurant. They don’t explain where the three degrees come in, but they mention food, drink and people. Or is it because they’re now between six degrees of separation, right in the middle of a chain, between a friend of a friend of a friend?

Three degrees is half of the six degrees of freedom, which is about movement, and not personal freedoms. But if you think about it, we can apply the six degrees of freedom to personal and political freedoms and develop an analogy to six degrees of freedom in mechanical motion.

Or anything else. I’m writing about degrees here, and what differences they do and do not make, and how arbitrary they sometimes seem, and yet what an impact they can have. Your thoughts on it may depend upon your degree of interest.

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