Midwest Memo
Weathered man
by Alan Shultz

I went to bed with a grin absolutely plastered on my face last night. This grin was occasioned by my having thought up probably the best column idea ever known to mankind. It was truly an award-winning column topic, humorous, engaging, but with a poignant point on which to reflect at the end. What an idea! The ironic thing is you won't be reading that column in today's paper. This morning the idea has vanished, seeped away forever into the hot, still night air that sucked away all creative juices within miles of me.

On top of all that, I can't recall sleeping, either. Not a wink.

I don't like to talk about the weather. I really dislike it as a topic of casual conversation. Let's face it, what's the point of talking about the weather? There's nothing anyone can do about it. Right? Then again, oh my, it's hot out there.

At this very moment our air conditioner is set on "high" but working on "limp" and crabby just seems to ooze out of me at that setting. I'm irritable and short fused and sticky! Meanwhile, we've wheeled into the living room a huge free standing dehumidifier and it drowns constantly and drips water into a big tray that requires periodic emptying into the bathtub. To make matters worse, the contraption throws off hot air of its own.

Rather than inspiring genius, I think this kind of weather is the root cause for a lot of marginal ideas that somehow took hold. Think about nudist colonies, Alaska cruises, men's short sleeve dress shirts and America's favorite Cool Whip. These ideas were certainly no award winners when they were conceived. I bet the likes of such things were hatched in hot weather just like this. As an afterthought, whoever came up with the Cool Whip idea also apparently sought some immortality of his or her own. That would explain the little reusable tubs in which Cool Whip is sold. Having encountered collections of Cool Whip containers in every household in North America, I wonder if any Cool Whip container has ever actually been discarded.

The thing about men's short sleeve shirts well let's say it's just a personal matter of taste with me. On a longsleeve shirt I actually "get" where the sleeve is supposed to end. I know right away if my shirt fits. If the sleeve is too long, or too short, it's easily apparent. Not so, however, with the short-sleeve shirt. Where, exactly, are they supposed to hit? Above the elbow, or below? I just don't get them, don't get the look or the feel. Heat index 103 degrees? No matter to me, I'm the one in the longsleeved shirt.

I did make an exciting discovery yesterday. I had the air conditioner blasting away in the car. Full force it was, but the air could hardly be described as cold.

At some point in my travels I landed behind a garbage truck just belching out diesel smoke. I was stuck in traffic behind this guy. Rather than breath in all those fumes, I hit the air re-circulate button on the dashboard. Suddenly, cool, cooler, cold, then freezing air blasted out of the a/c straight at me. It was terrific.

Now I suppose my owner's manual has revealed this secret trick long before I discovered it. Maybe I'm the only person in the county who didn't know this was an option. Anyway, I digress.

So, until the weather breaks, I've got my plan. I'll tool around the county, air conditioning blasting with the air re-circulate button on and note pad on the seat next to me. I'll just hope that column idea comes back some how. And if that doesn't work, well, I hear Alaska is nice this time of year. A cruise perhaps?