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It comforts me to think about the mesquite tree. You can beat them to hell. You can break off their limbs. But they always seem to grow back, faster and bigger than you ever could have imagined when you saw them in their "ruined" state. I think they should be the figure for something.
It was really, really hot today, in that unpleasant Phoenix-area way that is, thankfully, unusual here in Tucson. For some reason, I've felt a compulsion during this year's heat waves to spend meaningful time outside. I avoid the noonday sun, obviously, but do try to go without air conditioning long enough that reentering its artificiality feels suitably artificial. This practice came in handy today when New Silver's vents started blowing the sort of air that industrial fans blow in auto repair facilities.
Because I wanted to stay in extreme temperature shape, I even spent ninety minutes in the garage this evening -- the thermometer read 108 when I started -- sorting through what I charitably refer to as "my archives" and then assembling a rolling cart for hanging file folders without any help at all. This may not seem like a big deal to you. But if you knew how easy it was to lose control of that sort of undertaking in the Nicolini-Bertsch household, where she-of-impossibly-high-standards takes command at the slightest provocation, you would be impressed with my autonomy and stealth. I even had to fetch the toolbox!
Better still, the cart I put together came from a box I'd been moving around since 1997. Back then I bought another cart, which Kim assembled, and decided that it was so handy that I purchased a back-up. For years I've been trying to keep the box out of Kim's line of vision, fearful that she would insist I finally donate it to Goodwill. When she has seen it and, understandably, informed me that my likelihood of ever using it was miniscule, I've responded that I was saving it for the day when I would suddenly turn its potential energy into actual utility.
Well, guess what? Today is that day! It now sits handsomely in the garage, full of various empty file folders that I will soon deploy in my reorganization of my home office. Things are changing around here. I'm taking the Allen wrench by the hand. I'm going to screw things into place. If you're nice to me, I might even let you watch.
Because I wanted to stay in extreme temperature shape, I even spent ninety minutes in the garage this evening -- the thermometer read 108 when I started -- sorting through what I charitably refer to as "my archives" and then assembling a rolling cart for hanging file folders without any help at all. This may not seem like a big deal to you. But if you knew how easy it was to lose control of that sort of undertaking in the Nicolini-Bertsch household, where she-of-impossibly-high-standards takes command at the slightest provocation, you would be impressed with my autonomy and stealth. I even had to fetch the toolbox!
Better still, the cart I put together came from a box I'd been moving around since 1997. Back then I bought another cart, which Kim assembled, and decided that it was so handy that I purchased a back-up. For years I've been trying to keep the box out of Kim's line of vision, fearful that she would insist I finally donate it to Goodwill. When she has seen it and, understandably, informed me that my likelihood of ever using it was miniscule, I've responded that I was saving it for the day when I would suddenly turn its potential energy into actual utility.
Well, guess what? Today is that day! It now sits handsomely in the garage, full of various empty file folders that I will soon deploy in my reorganization of my home office. Things are changing around here. I'm taking the Allen wrench by the hand. I'm going to screw things into place. If you're nice to me, I might even let you watch.
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