|The Declarer (Floyd McWilliams' Blog)|
Sunday, June 25, 2006
I returned home to find that the thermometer had hit 97 at my house. (Overnight low, 67).
Friday was another hot day, but not in San Francisco apparently as I turned on the Giants-A's game and saw players in retro 80's jerseys that were glossy and colorful -- and long-sleeved. Every time the camera showed Felipe Alou with a jacket on, or some fan wearing a sweatshirt, I wanted to go stand under a cold shower. (The ESPN box claims that temperature at game time was 65 degrees and there was a strong breeze of 17 mph. Could someone else please develop a detailed baseball scoreboard? ESPN.com is a vile bloated piece of crap -- it was even crashing Firefox for a while -- but I couldn't stand the Yahoo alternative, which lacks so much as headlines for completed games.)
Saturday my wife and I were sick of sweltering in our house (the high that day was 88), so we drove down to the coast, planning an outing in Half Moon Bay. Several things combined to spoil this trip: The A's frittered away a 7-2 lead and lost on Ray Durham's walk-off homer; Jason was fussy and cried for half an hour, then fell asleep when we hit town, so we couldn't go out for a stroll; and there were approximately one billion other people who had the same idea as us. (Earlier that day I had gone to get my mail and counted a car every two or three seconds passing by, presumably on their way to the beach. One car every three seconds is 1200 cars per hour; the entire population of the small town I grew up in could have driven by that afternoon at that rate.)
But we did accomplish our mission of cooling off. 15 miles down the road at the coast the temperature was 60 degrees, with an overcast sky.
Here's a picture of the little fellow in a happier mood: